


Revenir de la Mort

by BarqueBatch



Series: Continuum [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Bucky helping Steve heal for a change, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Fury's in so much trouble, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Zombie-centric violence, Zombie-specific gore and relative grossness, new romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 105,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarqueBatch/pseuds/BarqueBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their mission in Los Angeles goes catastrophically wrong, Steve and Bucky both emerge from the events deeply changed. The race for a cure becomes even more desperate, and Bucky finds himself trying to do right by Steve when he's needed the most.</p><p>Sequel to "This Is A Shit Mission" and Part VI of the <i>Continuum Series</i>. - This is not a stand-alone! Don't read this before you read "Shit Mission" or you'll screw yourself out of some major plot twists. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "He's mine."

Sam Wilson let the ping of the GPS in his ear guide him to a small two-story building on Cartwright Avenue. There was no real helping the whine of his jetpack, but Tony had come up with a few helpful stealth options to offset that, so he engaged one of them three hundred feet up. The small chute deployed immediately after his pack shut off and he floated silently to the street below. A release button freed him of the chute just before his feet hit the ground. His whole body on high alert, Sam scanned the tree-lined street. He saw what had to be the super soldiers’ handiwork a block over; the smell of the bodies caused his eyes to water behind his goggles.   
  
He raised his wrist and tapped the small screen there. The GPS pinged in his ear again as it synced with the wrist monitor. They were inside, or at least the beacon Barnes activated was. Sam pulled his silenced handgun and walked cautiously to the front door and gingerly tested it. The bolt was thrown, but Sam had expected that and pulled the lock pick set from the shoulder pocket on his fatigues. Sweat began to dampen the long sleeves he wore, but Tony had been adamant about wearing the heavier fatigues because of the situation. Sam couldn’t argue with the reinforced uniform even if it did make him slightly uncomfortable in the warmer weather. Warm for _him_ anyway; a native Angelino would argue that sixty-five degrees was practically freezing.   
  
The lock clicked open and Sam glanced back over his shoulder. There was nobody around to care though, so he slowly opened the door. It made no sound, but the hardwood floor gave a soft groan as he stepped onto it. Seriously, what did people out here have against carpet anyway?   
  
Sam silently shut the door behind him and tapped his comm. “Steve…? Barnes…?”   
  
It was possible their comms were damaged so he spoke again. “Okay… coming up the stairs. Don’t anyone shoot me…”   
  
Keeping his gun half-raised, Sam didn’t really expect to have to use it. His line of sight was clear and any infected people would have shown themselves at the sound of his voice. At least that was the last intel he had. They hadn’t heard from either man in several hours. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he was walking into, and if being around Bucky Barnes had taught him anything, it was to be ready whether you thought you needed it or not.   
  
He reached the top of the stairs and Sam looked to his right, just to have his heart nearly stop.   
  
Barnes had Steve’s prone body clutched to his chest and a gun pointed at Sam’s head. The last time he’d seen that kind of intent from Barnes, Steve had ended up half-dead on the bank of the Potomac. This was not good.   
  
“Barnes,” he called softly, slowly holstering his own gun, “it’s me… Sam WIlson…?”   
  
Barnes didn’t move one iota except to narrow his eyes dangerously at Sam. He couldn’t tell if Steve was breathing, but the faint pinkish streaks coming from his eyes and mouth didn’t bode well. If Steve was dead and Barnes had snapped because of it, Sam wasn’t sure this would end well at all.   
  
“Bucky,” he tried again, this time calling out the name only Steve was comfortable using, “can you tell me what happened? Tell me what happened to Steve?”   
  
His eyes flickered slightly, but the only movement Barnes made was to adjust his grip upon his Sig, the metal plates in his fingers grinding against the grip of the handgun. It wasn’t a sound that gave Sam any comfort. He stood no chance of getting Steve away from Barnes if the ex-assassin didn’t relent. He had a wall to his back and was practically in a corner. There was no way in hell that Sam was getting anywhere near that arm either. He didn’t like it, but he had to gamble a different way.   
  
Sam slowly eased himself to his knees and kept his hands up where Bucky could see them clearly. There was something wrong with his eyes beyond being feral. His irises didn’t look right, though that could very well be a trick of light. Feral was still better than the cold calculation of the Winter Soldier though. Feral was something Sam was far more familiar with in traumatized vets. He could deal with this.   
  
“Bucky…? Man, I don’t know what happened, but I can’t work on bits and pieces here. Bring me up to speed, alright? Stark’s got his hands full back in New York so you got me to get you back to the airport, and then the three of us can get the hell outta here.”   
  
Barnes’ mouth moved finally, but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again, but when his voice sounded, it caused chills to spread over Sam’s skin.   
  
“How… Howard…?”   
  
Barnes’ voice was low and gravelly, sounding almost demonic. The soldier blinked and shook himself slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was a fraction better, but still pretty terrifying.   
  
“Tony.”   
  
“Yeah, man. Tony Stark… Hey, Bucky… ya with me now? Know who I am now?”   
  
His eyes narrowing again, Barnes squinted at him and the aim of his gun twitched.   
  
“Ssssam.”   
  
Sam never thought the sound of his own name could be so disturbing rolling off someone’s tongue before hearing that. He wasn’t sure what to make of Barnes’ condition; this wasn’t like any PTSD episode he’d ever seen before. Barnes sounded like his head might do a complete 360 on his shoulders, so to say Sam was at a real loss might possibly be the understatement of the year. Barnes was as uncomfortable about calling him Sam as he was about using Barnes’ nickname, and that added to the discomfort. Barnes recognized him though. Sam would take what little victories he could get.   
  
“Uh huh… Wanna try again and tell me what happened…? Maybe lower that gun while you do it? Not real fond of looking down a barrel...”   
  
Barnes’ eyes flicked to his Sig, then back to Sam. The click of the safety engaging made Sam want to sigh with relief, but he didn’t dare relax. The only person he’d ever seen move faster than Bucky Barnes was Steve so he held no illusions of being out of the woods yet.   
  
“Steve… bitten.” He blinked slowly at Sam, as though having to think about his words. He waved a subtle warning at Sam with his gun. “I’m… infected too… Stay… Stay back.”   
  
Sam’s eyes widened as the shock of it hit him. A thousand questions assaulted him all at once, and he tried to pick the most important ones first. Steve didn’t show any visible head trauma, so had he died but not turned, or was there a blow to the back of his head where Sam couldn’t see it? Why was Barnes not already one of those mindless things ambling around outside?   
  
“How long ago? Is Steve… Is he dead, Bucky?”   
  
“ _No_.” The word gritted out of Barnes’ mouth almost immediately, but again he had to think before he spoke further. “He… did. But he… he’s breathing again.”   
  
“Did what… died? For how long?” Maybe he just stopped breathing for a minute while his body was in distress.   
  
“Don’t… know? Maybe… fifteen… twenty minutes?”   
  
Shit. There was no guarantee that Steve was still Steve.  Maybe his brain was gone beyond what even the serum could heal.   
  
“How long has he been breathing again?”   
  
His eyes strayed from Sam’s for a moment; Barnes was thinking again. “Hour? Not sure…”   
  
“Okay, can I take a look at him?” Sam murmured gently and reached a hand out, only to yank it back when Barnes growled at him. Literally growled. As if he didn't already sound possessed. He seemed to realize immediately that it wasn’t the reaction he was supposed to have though, and visibly relaxed his facial features.   
  
“I’m… sorry? Confused…”   
  
“It’s okay, man.” Sam kept his voice steady. “We need to get Steve some help, okay? Can you stand up?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Can you carry Steve outside to one of those cars?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Okay good, we can hotwire a car and get outta here. How’s that sound for a plan?”   
  
Only a nod came out this time, but Barnes adjusted his hold upon Steve so he could stand. He shoved his back further up the wall until he had his legs beneath him, and could lean forward to sling Steve’s limp form over his shoulder.   
  
Sam regained his feet as well and turned for the stairs. He was nearly there when Barnes’ metal hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around. He would normally have fallen into defensive stance, but seeing Barnes’ eyes close up shocked him enough to freeze him in place. They were still ice blue, but now a strange ring of green circled each of his pupils. Seeming to sense Sam’s fear, Barnes immediately released his hold, though his eyes were still intensely angry.   
  
“Howard- n-no…  _ Tony  _ Stark. Bruce Banner… Not Fury.” He took a step back from Sam but repeated his directive. “ _ Not Fury _ .”   
  
“Okay, man. I won’t call Fury. We’ll go straight to Stark Tower, okay?”   
  
Barnes’ anger eased at that, along with Sam’s fear. He nodded to Sam and they descended the stairs. Sam peeked outside before opening the door fully to let Barnes through, ducking slightly so Steve’s body cleared the frame. There was a newer Mitsubishi Galant out front and Sam pointed to it.   
  
When they reached it, Sam produced a fob identical to the one Steve used on the Tahoe, and aimed it at the car. The locks clicked and he opened the back door for Barnes, who gently draped Steve across the seats. He barely took his eyes off Steve’s still form as he climbed into the passenger seat.   
  
Sam messed with the fob again after he was situated in the driver’s seat. He pointed it at the dash then frowned when the engine didn’t start. He smacked the fob against his palm and tried again. He didn’t have a chance to make a third attempt because Barnes suddenly lurched over, dug his metal hand into the steering column and  yanked the cover free. Sam stared with a mix of awe and horror as he reached back into the column and sparks flew as the metal fingers twisted abruptly. The engine came to life and Barnes withdrew to re-focus his attention back upon Steve in the back seat.   
  
“That thing didn’t… It didn’t work for Steve either.”   
  
“Right…” Sam muttered, unnerved by seeing a hint of the Winter Soldier again. He tried to push away the memory of that same arm jerking a steering wheel from his hands a little over a year ago, but it was difficult in such close quarters.   
  
“Worry about… virus… not… not my arm. Virus… more dangerous,” Barnes stated calmly and Sam couldn’t help but snort.   
  
“Yeah, gonna call bullshit on that one,” Sam answered, risking a sideways glance. He was glad for the excuse of paying attention to the road to break Barnes’ stare. On any given day, that stare could make Sam’s blood go cold, but now it was even worse. Before, it was at least possible to figure out what Barnes’ general mood was by the way his eyes fixed upon a given person or target. Now they still held a shade of that feral side, but the calculating gaze was coming back into them as well.   
  
As bad as they could often be, Sam would give anything for Barnes to crack one of his dry, smartass remarks.   
  
“I… don’t want to hurt you… Protecting Steve. That’s all.”   
  
Sam glanced at Barnes again, but the man was turned and had his chin rested to the back of his seat so he could watch Steve. Sam would have found it a lot more endearing if he knew for certain that Barnes wasn’t going to suddenly turn on him.   
  
“About that virus,” Sam began carefully as he navigated north on Cartwright toward the airport. “Were you bitten too?”   
  
“No.” Again, ‘no’ came immediately, but the rest took a moment. “Didn’t want to be left behind.”   
  
“Left behind…” Sam’s brain stuttered over that because it sounded like something it couldn’t possibly mean. “You mean… Did you infect yourself after Steve got bitten?  _ Intentionally … _ ?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
Crazy bastard. Sam knew he didn’t really want to know, but he couldn’t help himself.   
  
“How?”   
  
“Kissed him.”   
  
“You-”   
  
“Kissed him. He’s mine. I kissed him.”   
  
_ Oh _ .   
  
“Okay.” Sam got the word out, but he saw Barnes glaring at him, and that dangerous undertone was back in his voice. “He’s yours… Makes sense that you, uh, kissed him. Guess that would do it. Right.”   
  
Barnes turned his attention back to Steve, and Sam relaxed until  Barnes spoke again. If Bucky Barnes neglected his filter from time to time before, the filter seemed to have disappeared completely now.   
  
“Wasn’t mine before... but we... we had sex today.”   
  
“ _Wow_ , okay uh… Didn’t need to know that, Barnes, uh... Bucky.”   
  
“He’s  _ mine _ , Wilson.”   
  
“Yours. Right. Understood,” Sam winced even though he was trying to keep his expression neutral. Beside him, Barnes shook his head again as though shaking off more confusion.   
  
“I mean... my... my  _ boyfriend _ .”   
  
“Boyfriend. Got it.” He realized belatedly that Barnes had called him by his last name again. That relieved a tiny bit of tension in Sam’s gut.   
  
“Don’t tell,” Barnes ordered quietly, his eyes focused upon Sam from his peripheral. Catching the sliver of ice blue zeroed in upon him made Sam’s skin prickle uncomfortably. More sweat dampened the back of his shirt.   
  
“Which part?” Sam asked just as quietly, not wanting to set Barnes off.   
  
“Sex,” Barnes clarified. His eyes slid back to Steve and his shoulders visibly sagged. “People can know he’s mine though-  _ my boyfriend _ … Not like before. Couldn’t tell him then. Couldn’t tell  _ anyone _ .”   
  
Realization dawned as to what Barnes was actually saying to Sam. It confirmed a lot of the suspicions that floated around about the two super soldiers, while debunking others. It definitely explained the kicked-puppy expressions they sometimes wore when the other wasn’t looking. Yes, everyone was right that they loved one another. No, nothing had been done about it. Ever. Until today.   
  
“Don’t  _ tell _ , Wilson,” Barnes repeated more firmly, and Sam’s brain snapped back to the present. He nodded immediately.   
  
“You got it. Not a word.” His last name again. Barnes seemed to be methodically unscrambling his own mind. His words were coming out a little easier even if his voice still sounded like it’d been dragged over a cheese grater. Of course this wasn’t the first time Bucky Barnes had to detangle his own brain, so maybe it was just a matter of fighting his way back again.   
  
Sam just hoped the same would be possible for Steve if he regained consciousness.   
  
Talking seemed to help, so Sam initiated it again. “You gonna be good to fly, man? I know you’re not feeling great.”   
  
Barnes didn’t look at him. “Feel okay, just… confused sometimes.”   
  
“That’s okay, you’ve have a rough night,” Sam reassured. “Just wanna make sure you can pilot the plane safely.”   
  
“I can.”   
  
“Okay. Copy that.” They both remained silent for a short time as Sam tried to decide how else he could get Barnes talking. He saw the airport ahead and turned on Vanowen, then veered left onto Empire to access a private gate. Barnes tensed at the soldiers stationed there in full tactical gear and armed to the teeth, but Sam held up his hand.   
  
“They’re good. They’re here to-”  His words cut off with an exasperated sigh when Barnes climbed into the back seat, almost kicking Sam in the head. He made a mental note never to drive any Avengers anywhere ever again as he rolled down his window to update the soldier that approached.   
  
“Wilson?”   
  
“Yeah. I have Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers with me. Rogers is gonna need medical attention, but I’ve been ordered to get him back to New York immediately.”   
  
It was only a partial lie. Sam was honestly more concerned about the low, rumbling growl that was coming from the back seat to worry much about minutiae. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough for the soldier to hear. Sam outranked the whole of the guard detail so he mentally prepared himself to bluster through it if need be.   
  
“Yes sir,” the soldier answered, noticeably stepping back to salute with a wary frown. Apparently he  had  heard and didn’t think it was worth it to mess with a growling super soldier. Wise man. Sam gave him a nod and returned his salute before hurrying the car toward the waiting jet.   
  
There were no planes taking off or landing now, though Sam saw F-16s buzzing the area earlier. This was quickly looking more and more like the fabled apocalypse everyone theorized about and dreaded. Public transportation was suspended nationwide and martial law was already being implemented. Everything was on lockdown, particularly hospitals and major utility facilities. No one needed to be told to stay inside; most people were too terrified to venture out anyway. The surprising thing was the lack of widespread looting. It was just too damn dangerous to do so. No flatscreen television was worth it, though as the days dragged on that was likely to change as people began running out of supplies.   
  
Sam opened the door for Barnes, but didn’t wait for him to extract Steve. Something in his gut told him to make sure he was on the plane before the two were settled in. He didn’t exactly put it past Barnes to leave without him, though Sam wasn’t sure what he could really do about it if Barnes decided to toss his ass off the plane. Part of him also thought Barnes would appreciate being given space and trust, even if it was only on a subconscious level. 

 

He situated himself into the co-pilot’s seat and noticed the misfolded schematics for the US Bank Tower. A wave of sadness hit him knowing that Steve sat there hours earlier, unaware of what awaited them as he memorized the building’s layout. He counted Steve as the best friend he’d had since Riley, and the thought of losing another friend weighed too heavy.   
  
Barnes entered the cockpit finally and gave Sam the worst stinkeye ever. Maybe he really was considering ditching Sam.   
  
“Not gonna throw me off the plane are ya?” Sam questioned, trying to keep his voice light.   
  
“No. Why would I?” At least that came out without Barnes having to think past frowning at him. 

 

“You don’t really look happy to see me up here.”   
  
This time Barnes did pause. 

 

“You’re in Steve’s seat.”   
  
“I can move.”   
  
More thinking before Barnes shook his head and sat down.   
  
“He’s... not using it now.”   
  
It was all he said as he strapped himself into the seat. It didn’t seem like something Barnes would normally trouble himself with, so Sam suspected that was Steve’s influence lingering in the back of the ex-assassin’s brain. He let Barnes prep the plane’s systems in peace, and saved his further questions until they were at cruising altitude.   
  
Barnes got up to check on Steve. When he came back, Sam knew where he wanted to start. Before, when he’d asked what happened, the answer seemed to be too complex for Barnes to convey at the time, but he was more together now.   
  
“What happened between the last time you contacted Fury and when I found you?”   
  
Not looking at Sam, Barnes stared at the bank of clouds ahead of them. “What didn’t happen? It all got…  _ fucked up _ .”   
  
The profanity was strangely comforting. He’d heard Steve give Barnes teasing grief about his colorful expressions, but Steve wasn’t above the occasional, heartfelt swear when he was inspired.   
  
“Fucked up, copy that,” Sam muttered. “Steve had an injury on his shoulder. That what slowed you down?” He didn’t think so, but it was a way to keep Barnes talking.   
  
“Mako charge,” Barnes replied, still fixated upon the puffs of white passing the cockpit window. “Gave it to Ella. We... didn’t clear the blast radius in time. Debris caught him. He was… running behind me… Protecting me again. Stupid.”   
  
Sam shook his head as Barnes’ lip curled, and his prosthetic hand clenched into a fist. He wanted to pull Bucky back from any creeping anger.   
  
“You know damn well that Steve Rogers is not hardwired to allow anything to happen to someone he cares about.”   
  
“He cares about everyone.”   
  
Nodding in agreement, Sam looked over at Barnes. “Some a lot more than others though.”   
  
Barnes finally looked back at him, studying his expression to make sure he was understanding what Sam was saying to him. What might have been a blush tinted his pale cheeks, and Sam thought he even caught a shy smile before Barnes turned back toward the windshield.   
  
“It didn’t slow him down,” he murmured, pride showing through his words, but then he frowned. “It cost him though.”   
  
“How so?”   
  
Gesturing again, this time to his shoulder, Barnes’ lips tightened into a pained grimace. “It gave him a weak spot… the hole in his suit. They couldn’t bite through it before.”   
  
“I’m guessing the blood drew it right in too,” Sam sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Barnes nodded, remaining quiet. When he finally spoke again, it surprised Sam.   
  
“I should have chosen her.”   
  
“What? Who…? Ella Aubrey?”   
  
Another nod. “I was focused on Steve... Left Ella unguarded. Steve still got hurt. I chose wrong… but I knew I would. I told her I would.”   
  
“I don’t understand what you-”   
  
The bang was startling, but not nearly as much as the way the plane jostled. Barnes was up instantly and moving for the cockpit door before Sam even released his grip on his seat. He stood to follow, but Barnes turned on him as the plane shuddered again. He pointed at Sam, his features darkening in warning.   
  
“No!”   
  
Before Sam could argue, Barnes opened the door and stalked into the passenger section of the plane. Beyond him, Sam saw Steve smacking at the exit door and thanked everything he believed in that this was Tony Stark’s personal jet. The reinforced door had deformed slightly under the force of Steve’s blows, but was holding firm. The sight of Steve’s shield laying untouched on the floor was horrifically disturbing since Steve hadn’t even considered it as a weapon. If he had, the door probably wouldn’t have held against it. Sam didn’t know which of those facts upset him more.

 

Steve rounded on Barnes and Sam’s breath hitched. The super soldier’s eyes were different like Barnes’ but more pronounced and far more feral. He hissed and crouched, primed for attack with the pinkish trails beneath his eyes beginning to flake off. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and neck, his blond hair darkened with it at his temples, and he was panting. There was no recognition in his eyes as he stared at Barnes.   
  
Sam didn’t see how this was possibly going to go well, trying to contain a feral, pissed off super soldier inside a tiny, private jet. These two laid waste to an entire section of DC squaring off, and Sam was no pilot.   
  
Not good. Not fucking good at all.   
  


______________________________________________   
  
  
Bucky froze, not wanting to provoke Steve, despite deeper, darker parts of him wanting to challenge the man hunched against the side of the leather couch. Steve didn’t look well even though he was conscious and his coordination seemed to be fine. He was sweating, which concerned Bucky because it should have taken far more rigorous activity to cause Steve to sweat that much. He wasn’t speaking either. Steve Rogers should have at least been going Captain America on him and issuing commands or ultimatums. Instead he was crouched and tensed like a trapped animal.   
  
And that was the worst part of all of this. Steve looked at Bucky as though he was a threat. There was no warmth or recognition in his eyes, only wary fear as he sized Bucky up, obviously trying to decide whether to attack or just hold defensive positioning.   
  
Was this what it had been like for Steve before Bucky remembered? Had he looked this lost and feral? Bucky’s mind was still trying to sort out its new urges and instincts, but he understood enough to know that he had to try to reach out to Steve just as Steve had reached out to him. He had to break through what felt like more programming, only this time he had to do it for both of them.   
  
“Steve,” he rasped, tentatively raising a hand toward his boyfriend. “Stevie… it’s me. It’s Bucky…”   
  
Steve shrank  further away from Bucky and hissed, a low, bubbling sound that came from deep in his throat. Bucky pulled his hand back, but only slightly. Steve’s eyes were too clear and alert to be one of those things, but the green ring around his pupils worried Bucky. He needed to try something else, something that would jar Steve the way he’d been jarred on the carrier.   
  
“C’mon ya little punk,” he murmured, still fighting the scratchiness in his throat. Words still sporadically tried to elude him, which made this even harder.  “Tell me what a… stupid jerk I am…”   
  
Steve hissed again, but his eyes were blinking rapidly. Something was going on now, but the question was  _ would it be enough _ ?  Bucky had to take a chance; he had to do more than just talk to Steve so he took a small step forward. Steve’s shoulders hunched as though ready to attack, but he didn’t move otherwise.    
  
“I told you to… to fight this. You’re not off the hook yet, pal… Gotta remember who ya are… Who  _ we  _ are…” Bucky watched Steve’s expression carefully as he took another step. It confused him that he could hear Steve’s heart beating from this distance.  Even with his enhanced hearing, he’d only been able to detect Steve’s heartbeat when they were close and the world was mostly quiet around them. Now he heard the sluggish thudding plainly, along with how it spiked with each step he took toward Steve. Two parts of his brain were at war over how he should feel about that, but so far the part of him that still answered to the name Bucky was winning.    
  
“Steve… Rogers…” Bucky continued to advance while speaking as soothingly as he could. “C’mon, kid, remember…”   
  
Steve’s eyes flared dangerously, and Bucky's lips knowingly turned upward. “Still don’t like that, huh…? C’mon then, Steve; you don’t like it… do somethin’ about it… Tell me yer not a kid, ya little punk...”   
  
His mouth opened, and Bucky expected a sharp, petulant retort from Steve, but nothing came out. Both men blinked at one another as Steve opened his mouth again, but only managed a breathy hiss. Bucky flinched a little as Steve slammed his fist against the wall beside the emergency exit, but now he understood more.   
  
“Okay… I get it now... “ He again extended his hand toward Steve, who now had his forehead pressed to the cold glass of the window.  “Steve…? Steve, look at me…”   
  
The only response he got was Steve shutting his eyes tightly, and pressing the back of his fist against his mouth and nose. This was also something Bucky understood.   
  
“It’s okay, pal,” he whispered, knowing Steve could hear him just fine. “I forgot too… after they caught me again… The pain… It was so bad that I… I forgot words… I couldn’t speak. It was all… jumbled… Couldn’t remember… Couldn’t make sense of anything.”   
  
His fingertips were almost close enough to touch Steve. “You hurting, Stevie…? You in pain…?”   
  
After a tense moment, Steve nodded his head, the movement slow and jerky.   
  
“It’s the noise… and the smells… right?”   
  
Another pained nod. Steve was in overload and until Bucky helped him through it, Steve would remain stuck in this aggressive, confused state.   
  
“Okay, I can… I can help you…Gotta look at me though. C’mon, Steve…” Steve flinched when Bucky’s fingertips finally brushed over his nape. “I know, pal… It hurt when I woke up too… Too bright… Too loud… Smells made my head hurt.”   
  
A loud gasp of air escaped Steve, nearly a sob. Bucky pressed more firmly against Steve’s neck and slowly rubbed at the knotted muscles.   
  
“Breathe through it, Stevie,” Bucky urged him gently.  “It’ll get better… Just listen to me and breathe…”   
  
He continued to murmur softly to Steve, some of it just nonsensical noises as Bucky's own grasp on words sporadically faltered. Steve just needed to focus upon something besides the maelstrom that was inside his head. Bucky didn’t let up as he watched Steve’s breathing even out, and his muscles slowly relax. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been coaxing Steve along, but when the blond finally turned toward him, Bucky saw real recognition again. Steve’s eyes were desperate and weary as he hooked his fingers into Bucky’s harness straps and pressed his face against Bucky’s neck.    
  
“I got ya, Stevie,” Bucky whispered as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “We’re a little… messed up… but we’ll be okay.”   
  
Steve clung to Bucky for a few moments, then pulled back. He leaned in to capture Bucky’s lips, and Bucky sighed into his mouth as his whole body relaxed. He brought his hands up to cradle Steve’s face, but frowned when his thumbs registered dampness. He pulled back from the kiss to stare at the tears leaking from Steve’s eyes. The trails were still faintly pink as Bucky gently swiped one away. Steve seemed to understand that there was still something very wrong with him as he searched Bucky’s eyes for reassurance.   
  
“S’okay, Stevie… You’re gonna be okay. Banner an’ Stark’ll figure it out. You’ll be okay.”   
  
He didn’t get a chance to say anything more. Steve’s eyes flicked sideways to stare at a point beyond Bucky’s shoulder, and his body tensed again. Before Bucky could react, Steve had shoved him sideways and was charging toward the cockpit. He barely managed to spin, catch Steve around the waist, and throw his entire weight backward before Steve reached Sam. The stunned soldier stood frozen in the cockpit door, staring with wide eyes as Steve tried to break Bucky’s hold upon him. They fell backward onto the couch and Bucky snarled at Sam.   
  
“Shut… the  _ door _ , Wilson!”   
  
Sam unfortunately followed orders worse than Steve at times. His brows drew downward as Bucky held Steve in a chokehold to keep him from lunging at Sam.    
  
“Steve! Calm down...! It’s... Sam Wilson! He’s your friend, you... stupid punk!” Bucky kept talking to Steve, trying to keep his voice calm but having most of it come out in strained grunts. Steve’s eyes were pinned on Sam, but Bucky couldn’t tell if the aggression Steve was displaying was intent to harm Sam, or the need to proactively protect himself. It was even possible that Steve was being protective of Bucky, but once again, Steve just needed to remember. He needed to fight his way back, then Bucky knew he’d be okay.   
  
Of course it would help Bucky tremendously if Wilson would stop being an idiot and lock himself inside the fucking cockpit.   
  
“Hey! Steve! Man, you remember me. I know you do.” Sam was speaking to Steve just loud enough to be heard over his struggling with Bucky. “We run every morning when you’re in DC, remember? Well, I run anyway. You take off like you’re trying to break the sound barrier. And you tell all those rotten jokes that you get from Bucky. They’re horrible, Steve. I think you do it on purpose just to make my brain hurt too damn much to run.”   
  
Steve’s body was vibrating with exertion as Bucky continued to restrain him. Whether Bucky could outlast Steve was the million dollar question, because Bucky was wearing down quickly. He couldn’t even tell if anything Wilson was saying was getting through to Steve.   
  
“Wilson,” Bucky warned with a sharp wheeze.   
  
“You remember the morning we met? You had to be a damn show-off and kept lapping me around the pool? Kept saying ‘On your left’ every time you passed me, all smug and shit? You thought you were so funny. Come on, man, you gotta remember  _ that _ . If you don’t remember that, how about Natasha coming to pick you up? She called you a fossil.”   
  
Bucky felt the fight quickly drain from Steve’s body, and there was no more movement for several tense minutes. He still kept hold of Steve until Steve reached down and tapped the back of Bucky’s hand. It was such a civilized gesture that Bucky cautiously loosened his grip. As Steve pulled himself upright, Bucky stood with him, his hand hovering near Steve’s waist just in case. Steve opened his mouth to try to speak again, but nothing came out. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in frustration, making Bucky’s heart ache within his chest. Steve finally opened his eyes and stepped forward. Wilson’s eyes flickered and he tensed, but he stood his ground as Steve took two more steps to come into his space.   
  
Relief flooded through Bucky as Steve dropped his forehead to Wilson’s shoulder. The smaller man put his arms tightly around Steve, and looked up at Bucky as he spoke.   
  
“It’s okay, Steve. Me and Bucky, we’re gonna look out for you. We got your back, man.”   
  
As wheezing sobs tore from Steve’s chest, Bucky pressed himself to his boyfriend’s back and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist from behind. He rested his cheek between Steve’s shoulder blades and tried to let the pressure of his touch reassure the man he loved.


	2. “Fuck my fucking life.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is still on his game, and Bucky helps Steve communicate, but nothing is ever easy for these guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear AO3,  
> Italics and boldface should NOT be such a difficult thing to have in a post. I'm over here sounding like Bucky while I edit this for the third time to fix the coding glitch. Please send one box of Feria 6B at your earliest convenience to fix the grey hairs that just sprouted in the last half hour while I was editing code.
> 
> To be clear:  
> CAPS= Writing or texting  
> Bold= American Sign Language  
> Italics= Character thoughts, flashbacks, or probably snarling if it's Bucky's dialogue. ;)

Steve stared intently at Bucky, who was turned sideways in the pilot’s chair. Sam had relinquished the co-pilot’s seat to Steve, and now sat in the jumpseat. Steve still hadn’t uttered a word, so the tension bounced around the cockpit. It had no specific target other than the overall situation. Outwardly anyway. Inwardly, Bucky wanted to use Nick Fury’s head for his personal punching bag when he was feeling somewhat magnanimous about everything. When he wasn’t… well those were thoughts he tried his best to steer clear of because they wouldn’t help Steve at all.

“Steve, do you remember Tony Stark?” Bucky spoke slowly, partly because he was still having some fogginess in the language department, but also because he wasn’t sure how well Steve was comprehending his words. It didn’t help that Steve blinked back at him and said nothing.

“How about Bruce Banner?”

Steve’s eyes flicked around the cockpit, then started to frown. He stood up and started moving things around, looking for something specific and becoming annoyed when he couldn’t find it. Sam finally leaned forward, tapped Steve on the arm, and offered him a pen. Steve looked down at it, and almost looked teary-eyed with relief. Bucky wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it right away, but he made up for it by digging the sketchbook out of Steve’s duffel and handing it over. Again, Steve looked grateful.

NO  
NO  
WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME LIKE I’M FIVE?

He wrote quickly, if a bit messier than usual, so the words must be readily available to him in his head. Steve quirked his brow at Bucky as he showed him the tablet, which made Bucky ache a bit for the times they would jot the occasional juvenile note to one another during SHIELD meetings that ran too long. Okay maybe ‘occasional’ was best applied to how often they were called out on that instead of how often they did it.

“Bucky said he’s getting a little confused at times,” Sam answered, gesturing vaguely at his own head. “Your bodies suffered some serious trauma after you were infected, so some stuff’s twisted around upstairs.”

Bucky was thankful for Sam being there with them. He had an even-keel presence that curbed the anxiety Bucky felt. The same seemed to be true for Steve as well, because he nodded shortly and jotted another note.

OK  
SHOW ME PICTURES

That was his Steve, always the sharpest tool in the box. Sam nodded and pulled his Stark-issued phone from his pocket and tapped away at the screen. When he held it out, it was a paparazzi photo of Stark Jr. that he’d Googled. Steve’s brows furrowed and he shrugged.

“Iron Man?” Bucky tossed the moniker out to Steve, but he shook his head.

“Red and gold metal suit? Had a… a _thing_ in his chest that glowed for a while?”

Nothing.

“An obnoxious asshole most of the time?” Something small had at least flickered behind Steve’s eyes at that. “Okay… you don’t remember just yet, but… that’s okay. You will. You did with Sam and me… but here’s the thing, Stevie… Need ya not to attack him or Bruce, got it? Sam, show him one of Banner.”

Sam complied and Steve studied the picture carefully. Bucky wondered how much of the previous aggression was confusion and how much was feral instinct brought on by the virus.

GOT IT

Bucky could only feel so relieved over that. It remained to be seen if Steve’s current rational state would be overridden. He wasn’t going to take any chances. Steve would never forgive himself if he hurt anyone in their team.

“Can you tell me how you felt after you were bitten, Steve?” Sam asked carefully. “How much do you remember?”

Steve looked down at the sketchbook, tapping his pen as he considered Sam’s question. His frown grew until he opened his mouth in an attempt to speak again. When nothing came out, he threw the pad and pen aside and rubbed at his eyes.

“Sorry, man,” Sam apologized softly, putting his hand upon Steve’s forearm and letting the firm touch ground Steve. “Don’t force it if you don’t remember, or it’s overwhelming-”

Steve suddenly shook his head in anger and picked the pen and pad again.

I REMEMBER. TOO MUCH TO WRITE. WANNA SPEAK.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky murmured gently, knocking Steve’s knee with the back of his hand, “you remember your sign language?”

Steve stared back blankly, and for a horrible second Bucky thought he’d brought up yet something else that Steve could no longer do, but then Steve signed swiftly with his hands.

**Do you?**

Bucky sighed with relief. This would be a lot easier than poor Steve trying to write everything down. Even pulling out a Starkpad would be inconvenient most of the time.

 **Like riding a bike, punk,** Bucky signed back with a smirk. He turned to Sam to translate, but Sam’s hands started moving before he could. Bucky was impressed, and Steve looked like he felt the same.

******I know ASL. Just don’t sign too fast.** ** **

******Okay, but I would rather you both spoke, not signed, unless discretion is in play,** **** Steve warned, and Bucky remembered how much Steve hated signing as a kid, hated standing out in any way.

“Steve was damn near deaf before the serum,” Bucky explain aloud. Steve’s eyes immediately went self-consciously to the floor, so he reached out and rested his hand soothingly to Steve’s knee.

“His ma taught him to sign, but he hated it as he got older, so he learned to read lips. Came in handy in the winter when half my face was covered with a scarf, but mostly I learned it so we could talk shit about assholes in the neighborhood… at least when his ma wasn’t around. Later, after Steve showed up on the front, we still used it when we wanted to drive the other Commandos nuts… but then we ended up teaching them basic stuff too so we could run silent on missions.” ****

******At least until Dum Dum started shooting up the joint,****** Steve signed with a fond smile. Sam laughed at that, knowing exactly who Steve was referring to, and Bucky brightened immediately.

“You remember the boys, Stevie?”

******Of course I do.** ** **

“Good,” Bucky murmured, his heart feeling a tad better for it. “Big lug would come back an’ haunt us if you didn’t,” he teased, and Steve’s smile grew for a moment. It faded back to somber lip-pursing as he signed a question to Sam.

******What made you learn?** ** **

“I had a soldier come through that lost his hearing from catching blast. Didn’t want him to feel alone, so I went to class and learned with him. Worked out really well for both of us because I got another a couple weeks after he moved to Montana.”

******You’re a good man, Sam.** ** **

Bucky nodded his agreement, but Sam just shrugged it off.

“Just trying to ease the way. Don’t want anyone feeling like I did when I got home.” He jerked his chin upward toward Steve to guide the conversation back to his original question.

“So what can you tell me? Bucky’s said a little about it, but it seems like you two had different experiences. Might be good to think talk it out before you have Tony in your face so you can tell Bruce with your sanity intact.”

Steve looked questioningly at Bucky since he didn’t remember either man. Bucky just rolled his eyes and smiled wryly.

“Obnoxious,” he repeated. “Do you remember Howard, Stevie?”

 ******Sort of obnoxious himself. You didn’t like him much,****** Steve replied after thinking for a moment. A part of Bucky that resolved to stay buried was a little hurt that Steve seemed to easily remember their wartime friends, but not him. At least not as quickly.

“I liked him okay,” Bucky waved him off. “He just helped you find too much trouble is all. Tony is his son.”

Something more flickered at that, but Steve just gave a vague, misleading nod that told Bucky it wasn’t enough to really jar anything substantial loose. He’d been guilty of that nod way too many times himself.

******Felt dizzy at first. I couldn’t focus my eyes. I started to feel really weak really fast. My legs went numb, then my arms. I remember thinking that was weird because it was my shoulder that was bitten. Started to smell funny, and got a weird taste in my mouth… like when you first wake up in the morning?** ** **

Sam nodded, so Steve continued.

 ******I wanted to sleep, but Bucky kept telling me to fight it and I didn’t want to leave him… and then he infected himself and...** **** Steve squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, and Bucky felt a pang of guilt again for upsetting Steve.

******Don’t think we won’t talk about that later, Buck.**** **

“Nothin’ to talk about, Steve,” Bucky mumbled back, averting his eyes. “I told you why. Leave it be-”

Steve slammed his hand down on the small cabinet that held the flight manuals, startling both Bucky and Sam. He glared at Bucky, his temper exploding in a way that hearkened back to the the scrawny kid that always got in way over his head. Bucky actually had to fight back the urge to squirm as he was pinned by a scowl that he hadn’t seen since before he was drafted.

Glancing sideways at Sam, Steve reined in his anger, and his palm curled away from the massive dent he’d left in the metal cabinet.

******Sorry Sam.** ** **

“Apparently there’s a few things you two need time alone with, so no worries, man,” Sam replied, calmly dismissing the outburst.

Steve raised his eyebrows at Sam, and then at Bucky, who’s shoulders tensed even further. He peered up at Steve through his stringy bangs.

“I was more confused earlier…? I may have let some things… slip?”

Sam stood and abruptly excused himself from the cockpit. “This seems like a really good time to raid the wet bar.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he looked to Bucky for further explanation. ****

******Like what?** ** **

“Like the fact that we had sex.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, and Bucky winced. “I didn’t go into detail.”

Steve just kept staring at him. They’d talked about it… sort of… but deciding on a label and actually blurting out they were fucking might be two different things to Steve.

******When?** ** **

“In the car, Stevie. He was driving us to the airport.”

******We had sex in the car with Sam driving?!** ** **

“Huh? No!” Now Bucky’s eyes were wide with shock. “No! That's when I told him about us! Don’t you…? Aw, Jesus, Steve…”

Steve becoming infected and losing his speech was horribly unfair, but he was still himself and alive. This? This was just fucking cruel. Bucky felt sick to his stomach.

“You don’t remember.”

******No. I… When did we...?** ** **

Bucky felt horrible for all the times he got annoyed with Steve for looking like a kicked puppy when he couldn’t remember parts of their past, because he knew he had to be doing it right now.

“Before you were bitten. We needed to rest so we holed up in an empty house… I kissed you…”

******Kissing isn’t sex-** ** **

“I know kissing’s not sex, Steve!” Bucky snapped back at him, too hurt to help himself. “It started with that and went from there.” He propped his elbows upon his knees and dropped his face into his hands. He couldn’t bear to tell Steve that they’d admitted to loving one another. That was too precious to be told rather than remembered.

“You kissed me back there,” he muttered. “Why did you kiss me if you didn’t remember us being together…?”

The silence was awful until Steve gently tugged at his hair and he remembered that he needed to watch Steve’s hands to get any kind of answer.

******I kissed you because I couldn’t hold it back. I needed you. You were okay with it and it felt… right. I didn’t question it.** ** **

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered, letting his head fall back into his hands. “Fuck my fucking life.”

His eyes were watering up when he heard faint scratching and the sketchpad was pushed into his lap. He was almost afraid to look at it.

PLEASE LOOK AT ME.

“Steve, can ya just-”

The push against the pad dug it into his waistline, and the pen thumping the paper was insistent. Bucky slowly looked up to see pleading, worried eyes upon him.

******I hope like hell that I told you I love you; that I’ve loved you since we were stupid kids.** ** **

Bucky collapsed back against the seat, his head tilting backward so he was staring at the ceiling when the tears slipped over his cheeks. Steve poked him in the thigh and he sighed.

“Yeah you told me,” he whispered, not shifting his gaze. “I’m sorry for all the things I couldn’t remember before, Steve. I’m sorry that I got upset with you for feeling hurt over it… because I get it now. This feels like shit.”

More scratching of the pen upon the paper.

FEELS LIKE SHIT THAT I DON’T REMEMBER THE MOST AMAZING THING WE’VE GIVEN TO EACH OTHER

Bucky laughed softly and cast a sidelong look at Steve. “You don’t fucking know that it was amazing.”

******I know it was amazing because it was you.** ** **

They stared silently at one another, Steve towering over Bucky, until Steve held out his hand. Bucky looked like it might burn him, but he reached out and took it. Steve hauled him out of the chair and cupped the side of Bucky’s face before signing again.

******Later you can show me. Show me everything we did… and more.** ** **

Bucky nodded silently, his body lighting up as Steve’s words settled into his bones. Steve leaned in to press his lips against Bucky’s, and every nerve ending sizzled. When Steve finally pulled back, he looked frustrated. He looked Bucky over, then gazed down at his hands.

******With me not being able to speak, I need a way to tell you without words.** ** **

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky soothed immediately. “I know. Don’t worry, pal.”

 ******No, I need this… We need this.****** He reached up and pressed four fingers to Bucky’s nape, just at his hairline, then pinched him lightly. Bucky shivered.

******That’s gonna be it, Buck. Four fingers and a little pinch. That’s me telling you that I love you when I can’t sign.** ** **

Bucky swallowed back the lump in his throat as he nodded, then pulled Steve back in for another kiss. He didn’t really have a right to be so hurt by this; it took him nearly killing Steve before he remembered him. At least Steve remembered that he loved Bucky, and he still wanted him. That was better than the alternative, and Bucky was determined to keep reminding himself of that.

Steve pulled back again.

******Do you love me, Bucky?** ** **

“What’d’you think, punk?” Bucky laughed softly, feeling heat flow through his cheeks.

******Think I really need to hear you say it.** ** **

Bucky met Steve’s eyes. He raised his hand to Steve’s neck and repeated the press and pinch as he spoke aloud.

“I love you,” he whispered solemnly, and Steve's eyes drooped almost shut. Bucky closed the distance between their lips again, placing several longing kisses against Steve’s mouth.

“I love you,” he repeated after each one. When Steve couldn’t hold back his smile, Bucky found he was having a hard time of it also.

Which was why alarm shot through Bucky when Steve doubled over in pain. He sank to his knees, clutching his gut even though Bucky was trying to steady him.

“Wilson!”

Steve clawed at the thin carpet below his knees as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Bucky was running his hands frantically over Steve’s face, then checking the bite wound. It was still sickly looking, but not as bad as before.

Sam had run back to the cockpit and was kneeling down beside Steve.

“What happened?”

“Dunno, we were talking and he was fine, then he just doubled over,” Bucky answered helplessly. He felt a bit of what could almost be cramps in his stomach. “He has uh… You know how his metabolism is. Maybe-”

Steve smacked the floor with his fist, and a long, frightening hiss rolled from his throat. Sam flinched, but stayed beside Steve.

“Man, I know you’re in some kind of pain, but can you try to sign? Give us a clue here-”

Steve surged upward and grabbed Sam by his shirt. Bucky tried to grab him, but he moved too fast. Steve threw Sam backward into the cabin, then frantically pulled the door shut and locked it. He stumbled back from the door, and weakly pushed Bucky in front of it. On the other side, Sam’s yelling was muted along with his pounding upon the door. Steve managed to sign, his face stricken in addition to the pain he was feeling.

******Keep him away. Please.** ** **

Wide eyed, Bucky nodded numbly and pulled out his cracked phone. He opened up his text module and pulled up Sam’s ID.

STEVE NEEDS U TO KEP YOUR DISTNCE UNTIL THIS PSSES. PLEASE. TOO TEMPTING.

Bucky closed the screen and tossed the phone onto the manual cabinet. It settled into the dent left by Steve’s fist, and Bucky ignored the ping of Sam’s reply. It didn’t matter what Sam had to say at this point. The matter was non-negotiable.

Until that moment, Bucky could have almost fooled himself into thinking that Steve was mostly unscathed by the virus; that his aphasia was the worst of his trauma. Watching as Steve writhed in agony on the floor of the cockpit, Bucky knew with no shortage of terror that Steve was anything but okay. He also realized that the pangs he felt had started almost in response to Steve’s pain.

****_Hive mind…_ ** **

Sam wasn’t safe around Steve now. Not like this. Bucky would guard the door, but a fight breaking out in the cockpit of a jet wasn’t exactly keeping the dread from Bucky’s gut. That wasn’t his worst fear though. He could keep Steve out of the cabin, but only as long as his own body didn’t start craving the scent on the other side of the cockpit door. At the moment, he felt no violent urges.

But what if that changed?


	3. "...I don’t need to be your responsibility.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve holds on for New York.

Steve needed to block out the noise. He tried to focus upon Bucky’s voice, but the sound of Sam’s heart beating in the cabin was maddening. The more his stomach cramped, the louder the rhythmic thudding overwhelmed him. There was also the smell. Sam smelled… tempting. Steve couldn’t bear to think of a better suited word for it, otherwise he’d be throwing up all over the cockpit. Adding to his confusion, he could almost swear that he was feeling things from Bucky. Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe the virus was slowing turning him afterall.  
  
“C’mon, punk, stay with me.”   
  
Bucky’s deeply-strained voice cut through this time because Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders. The moment Bucky did it, everything faded except the cramping. He rolled onto his hip and leaned heavily against Bucky, tucking his face against Bucky’s chest. Bucky stroked his neck and tightened his grip, and Steve wanted so much just to be able to talk aloud to Bucky, but all he was able to do was touch the back of Bucky’s neck and gently pinch.   
  
“I know, Stevie. Me too. We’re almost there, okay? I let Sam know what was going on, so he’s gonna go in ahead of us to Stark’s so you don’t have to deal with… it.”   
  
Steve sighed and nodded. Bucky sighed as well, causing Steve to frown because it was so similar in tone and duration that it sounded like an echo.   
  
“Steve, I’m gonna haveta land the plane, pal. Can you hold on and sit tight long enough for me to do that?”   
  
His mind did feel calmer and clearer, so he nodded. The tension eased in Bucky’s arms, and he stood to check the flight gauges. The moment he let go of Steve, the cramping began to increase, and the smell and sound of Sam started to flood back into his brain until he was writhing in pain again. Bucky was back with him in an instant.   
  
“Steve, breathe!”   
  
He forced himself to do as Bucky told him, but it was a faulty fix and he knew it. Bucky couldn’t maintain skin contact with him forever, and this felt like the beginning of a downward spiral.   
  
“Okay pal… okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do…” Bucky tugged at his jacket, unsnapping the straps at the bottom to loosen it. He pulled his undershirt free of his fatigues so Steve glimpsed the pale skin of his stomach.   
  
“Sit here next to the pilot’s seat, Stevie, and keep your hand here,” he said, placing Steve’s palm under his shirt. “I don’t know if this is the hive mind thing Ella mentioned, but touch seems like it’s helping, so let’s use that until we can get you to Bruce Banner, okay?”   
  
The hive mind. Right. He vaguely remembered Bucky mentioning lions to him. Pack mentality. A flash of several zombies turning their heads simultaneously to look and him and Bucky. Was Bucky just as grounded by their connection? Was he feeling Steve’s pain and falling into a feedback loop when their touch was broken? He didn’t remember seeing zombies going out of their way to touch one another, though they did huddle tightly when attacking in larger groups. If his condition was anything to go by, assuming they couldn’t communicate just because they weren’t speaking might have been an ignorant assumption on their part, and a potentially costly one.   
  
Grabbing the pad and pen, Steve kept his left hand in contact with Bucky’s skin as he wrote.   
  
MAYBE THEY’VE BEEN COMMING ALL ALONG   
  
Bucky read it and shook his head. “Maybe. No way to really know for sure, but they did seem more coordinated as time went on.”   
  
Steve was going to put the sketchpad aside when a thought occurred to him. He scratched out his question and showed it to Bucky with his heart pounding in his chest.   
  
WHAT IF I CAN’T EAT NORMAL FOOD?   
  
Bucky drew in a long, thoughtful breath as he fixed his eyes upon the horizon.

“I dunno, Steve. We’ll see what happens when we eat. Banner’s real good at dealing with weird illnesses all over the planet and Tony’s a genius. Between the two of ‘em, we’ll figure something out, okay? I’m not ready to give up our Thai takeout just yet, alright?”

Steve signed _ok_ , then rested his cheek to Bucky’s thigh. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything that would allow him to doze off.   
  
_________________

  

_The nurse called out to him as he walked the muddy path between the tents. Before the men could claim spots in the shelled buildings, they needed to be cleared, and that would have to wait for daylight. Steve already had a dry spot cleared for him though, since he’d just rescued two more groups of American and British soldiers. Col. Phillips was making sure that Steve received certain privileges for what he was achieving. Steve would have argued against the special treatment, had it not been for Bucky. He had a feeling that’s who the nurse was flagging him down to discuss._   
  
_“Captain Rogers… Sergeant Barnes isn’t feeling well again. He’s pale and sweaty, and he’s got the shakes, sir.”_   
  
_Steve closed his eyes for a brief moment as he stared at the mud below his boots. “Let me guess… He’s refusing to go to the medical tent, isn’t he?”_   
  
_“Yes, sir.”_   
  
_“Where is he?”_   
  
_“When I left him, he was on the south side, sir, away from the others. That burned out drug store?” She held out a syringe. “If you can get him to take this, it’ll help him sleep some.”_   
  
_Steve took the syringe, but gave the nurse a hard look. Supplies hadn’t been replenished yet, and it was anyone’s guess when that would happen. Medicines were dwindling while the number of soldiers getting wounded wasn’t. “It’s not morphine, is it? He’ll never accept morphine, especially when we’re short on it.”_

_“No, it’s amobarbital,” she assured him. “We aren’t using it as much as the morphine,” she added sadly. Even so, Steve knew she could get into a lot of trouble for just handing him a sedative that needed to be injected._

_“Thanks, Jeanie. I probably won’t be able to get him to take it either, but I really appreciate you trying to look out for him.”_   
  
_“He’s a nice guy,” she said with a blush that wasn’t unfamiliar to Steve where Bucky and ladies were concerned. She started to leave, but turned to look over her shoulder a few feet away._   
  
_“It’s real important to the fellas that he’s okay. Real important. Gives ‘em hope.”_   
  
_Steve nodded somberly and watched her go before he headed toward the drugstore. He didn’t see Bucky outside like Jeanie mentioned. Hearing a sound like old spoons clinking together, Steve looked inside the ruined building. Bucky was sitting on the floor near what was left of the register counter. He was slowly turning a small blue and gold tin over in his fingers. The design on the front was a flowing font that had somehow survived the heat of the blast. Pastiglia Valda. Steve recognized the name from several of the USO girls liking them._

_Bucky’s eyes lifted toward Steve as he approached, and it almost gave Steve pause. Bucky’s eyes were dead. Not just cold in the way they would turn while he was set up for a shot. This was… nothing. No anger. No smirk. No glimpse of being happy to see Steve._   
  
_Just nothing._   
  
_It was as if Bucky couldn’t gather the strength to emote anything at all. He’d seen it in so many soldier’s expressions after being the only one to survive, or being ambushed and seeing too many things they’d never be able to forget with time. It wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see on his best friend’s face._   
  
_Bucky’s eyes lowered back to the tin. “Whattaya think... safe to eat?”_   
  
_“Definitely not,” Steve frowned, dropping down to sit across from Bucky. “Trust me on this one, pal; you definitely do not want to eat those.”_   
  
_“Was hoping maybe it was chocolate.” Bucky’s voice remained as flat as his eyes. Steve tucked the syringe away from his sight for the time being._   
  
_“They’re more like sugar-coated cough drops,” Steve explained. “The USO girls, they’d eat a few then drink water really fast. They got me to try it once.”_   
  
_“Did ya like it?”_   
  
_Steve shuddered. “God no. Thought I was gonna die. Thought I had asthma all over again because I couldn’t breathe. They all thought it was hilarious.”_   
  
_“Wasn’t very nice of ‘em,” Bucky frowned. It was at least something going on in those icy blues, though Steve still scrambled to correct him._   
  
_“No, no… They weren’t trying to be mean. Worked just fine for them because they have a normal sense of taste. Just tasted really minty to them. Helped them clear their throats before they had to sing. They didn’t realize all my senses are way more sensitive now. To me, it was like I’d just chewed through a eucalyptus forest. I was almost late to the stage ‘cause I couldn’t get my eyes to stop watering.”_   
  
_A soft snort erupted from Bucky, and his eyes warmed. He was like a fire needing to be stoked, so Steve gave him a cheeky grin and added one more quip._   
  
_“My breath was amazing for days.”_   
  
_Bucky closed his eyes and giggled. Steve let his own chuckle add to the warmth, trying to fight off the dropping temperatures inside as much as outside._   
  
_“Hey,” Steve called softly, slapping the side of Bucky’s ankle before he stood up, “walk with me. It’s early still, but it’s getting cold.”_   
  
_“M’not bunking with ya, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “Not fair to the other men.”_   
  
_Steve stepped closer and crouched back down in front of Bucky._   
  
_“Bucky… it’s important to the men that you’re okay. You went through hell with them, and they’ve all mentioned things you did to keep them all sane.”_   
_Bucky shook his head slowly, but it took him several minutes to answer. He swallowed hard and bit at his bottom lip, squeezing the lozenge tin until his knuckles were bloodless._

_“The ones they took before me… They’re all gone, Steve. Never came back. Kept hoping they just put them to work in some other part of…” He opened his eyes, and Steve almost wished for the blank, dead look to return, because Bucky’s eyes reflected Hell itself. Steve couldn’t interrupt him though. Bucky barely said much about what he endured during debriefing. If he was talking about it now, it was because he needed to. Steve wouldn’t take that from him._   
  
_“When they came for me… they walked me through a courtyard. There was a pile of bodies to the side and… the three guys they took before me? They were laying on that pile. They looked all wrong, Steve. Their faces were frozen in these awful expressions just like the men below ‘em. I knew what was comin’ to me then, but I was too sick to fight ‘em off.”_   
  
_Steve reached out and squeezed Bucky’s calf, but remained silent as Bucky looked down at his sooty fingers. “I’d be right there on top of that pile if you hadn’t showed. Face’d be just like theirs…”_   
  
_“And that’s why you need to accept a little help now, Buck,” Steve answered firmly, giving Bucky’s leg another squeeze. “If you don’t, you’re gonna fall deeper into this pit you’re in… and it’s gonna hurt your men’s morale.”_

_“Your men, Steve,” Bucky corrected him quietly._   
  
_“No, your men,” Steve insisted. “I’m just supplying the stupid… and the bar tab.”_   
  
_Bucky smiled faintly, and Steve took the opportunity to haul him up to his feet._   
  
_“C’mon. Got something for ya back at my bunk.”_   
  
_Bucky’s smirk came to life at the opening Steve intentionally left for him. “Well that sounds vaguely filthy,” he mused._   
  
_“It does need to be wiped down,” Steve admitted with a smirk of his own, “but hey, the decor is cutting edge so…”_   
  
_Another weak giggle peeled from Bucky’s lips. Steve wanted to do better though. He just needed to get Bucky back to his makeshift quarters. As they passed several of the men, they were met with bright smiles of relief at seeing Bucky back on his feet._   
  
_“Hey, Sarge, you feeling better?”_   
  
_“Yeah,” Bucky muttered with a smile that only Steve recognized as fake. “Gonna have Dernier cook from now on. No one let Dum-Dum near a pot and fire anymore unless it’s to make coffee,” he cracked._   
  
_The young soldier laughed, more than willing to go along with the farce Bucky was trying to pass off. They were all soldiers, and none of them were particularly stupid or blind. They’d seen Bucky’s symptoms before, just as Steve had, and none of them were willing to allow Bucky to feel shitty about it. Instead they gave him every opportunity to keep his dignity by letting him blame his shaking episodes upon colds, food poisoning, cold weather, or a few too many drinks. Anything he needed to blame it upon, they welcomed it, because if he could still carry on after what he’d been through, so could they._   
  
_Steve still caught the nervous look Bucky shot him though._   
  
_“Yeah, Buck, I already know,” he sighed, clapping Bucky’s shoulder gently._   
  
_“Nurse Jeanie,” Bucky muttered, and Steve gave a short nod._   
  
_“Relax, Bucky,” Steve soothed. “No one saw her talking to me.”_   
  
_“Bet she gave ya that needle though, didn’t she?” Bucky asked tightly as they continued on to Steve’s makeshift quarters. Steve had thought he'd been more subtle, but what had he really expected from a sniper. Bucky had always been ridiculously observant. His training as a sniper just refined that gift. He missed nothing now._   
  
_“Yep.” Steve didn’t bother lying, and Bucky didn’t say anything more, but his lips thinned into a scowl. Steve was worried that he’d turned around and head back for one of the tents, but he kept stride with Steve._   
  
_When they reached the small space with a shattered cadaceus above the door, Steve pushed the barely-intact door open just enough for them both to squeeze through. The front area still had couches for waiting patients when Steve and another soldier cleared it, but they moved one of the couches across the street for a family still lingering in the town. Gabe was trying to talk them into moving on, though sadly no one could really tell them where they should go._   
  
_Steve patted the couch and Bucky just scoffed at him. He folded his arms across his chest, and Steve noticed he was still holding the lozenge tin._   
  
_“Definitely not takin’ your couch, punk.”_   
  
_“You’re not sleeping there,” Steve huffed with a wave of his hand. “This was a doctor’s place. He lived in the back so there’s a bed.”_   
  
_“Ahh, putting me on the couch while you snuggle down in the bed,” Bucky teased lightly. “I see how it is.”_   
  
_“Clearly not,” Steve laughed, “because it’s big enough to share.”_   
  
_Bucky’s eyes flicked to the window nervously, but Steve held up his hand before he could launch any protests._   
  
_“Don’t, okay? It’s fine. You’re sick and you need to rest. You also need to not take a chill while you do that. We’ve shared a tent, Buck. This is no different.”_   
  
_“You’re gonna get us both in trouble, Steve,” Bucky warned, his eyes darting about and looking anywhere but at Steve. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine .”_   
  
_“You’re not fine, and Phillips already knows.”_   
  
_Steve decided to take a calculated risk and outright lie after all, but Bucky’s face just went ghostly white._   
  
_“Knows what…?” he asked, his voice hardly a whisper and his eyes wide._   
  
_“That both nurses and doctors are wanting you taken out of action for a while. They told him you’ve got shell-shock. The only thing standing between you and them is me.”_   
  
_Bucky looked oddly relieved at first, but then his expression turned indignant._   
  
_“M’not goin’ home just ‘cause I’ve been a little under the weather. I’ll be fine. They just need to back off. Get ‘em to back off, Steve.”_   
  
_Steve’s eyes followed Bucky as he paced, hating the agitation building with each step his friend took. He grabbed Bucky’s arm finally and hauled him back to the living quarters. Once they were inside the bedroom with the door shut, Steve pushed Bucky to sit down on the edge of the bed. He pulled a chair up just as Bucky stood back up. Steve grabbed his shoulders and sat him back down._   
  
_“No, Buck, you sit your ass down and listen to me.” Bucky’s eyes were wide again as he stared at Steve. He averted his gaze as Steve sat down across from him and leaned forward._   
  
_“Look, no one would blame you for going home, Bucky. Everyone’s said you deserve a ride straight back to Brooklyn after what you went through. Your discharge has already been approved by Col. Phillips if you want it. I would miss you… but I’d be glad to know you were safe.”_   
  
_Bucky closed his eyes and gripped the tin tightly in his palm. The damaged hinges of the lid creaked in protest but held. He shook his head again as he spoke, almost too quietly for even Steve to hear._   
  
_“Can’t. Can’t leave you here. You’ll get yourself killed and I’d never forgive myself.”_   
  
_“I’m a grown man,” Steve reasoned. “I’m not a weakling anymore and I don’t need to be your responsibility.”_   
  
_“And I don’t need to be yours,” Bucky snapped, raising furious eyes to Steve’s. “You don’t need to watch over me all the time, Steve. I can take care of myself.”_   
  
_Steve sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with a wry smile plastered over his lips._   
  
_“Wow… that what I sounded like all these years?”_   
  
_Bucky blinked at him dumbly for a moment as the anger slipped quickly away. He let his head lean back so he could stare at the ceiling. Running his hand over his hair, he sighed and rolled his eyes._   
  
_“Every fuckin’ day, ya little shit.”_   
  
_“Uh huh,” Steve nodded, “and never once did you let me run you off. Not once did you let me finish a fight on my own.”_   
  
_“Because you couldn’t.”_   
  
_“And neither can you,” Steve admonished him gently. “Not this time. Not like you are right now.”_   
  
_“Huh,” Bucky grunted with a hint of amusement. “Backed me right into that one, didn’t ya?”_   
  
_“Sure did,” Steve smiled, but then he grew serious as he leaned forward again. He rested his hands upon Bucky’s knees as he held his gaze._   
  
_“You’ve only got two choices here, Buck: Rest here, or rest at home. It’s your choice, but staying here with me is gonna carry some conditions with it for the next few days.”_   
  
_“And those are…?” Bucky asked quietly, his eyes darkening warily._   
  
_“First and foremost… sleep. I mean real sleep, Bucky. If you can’t do it for more than a couple hours without having a nightmare, I’m gonna insist on the amobarbital. Second, take the damn bed. If you don’t want me sharing it, then help me pull the couch in here.”_   
  
_“Gonna monitor me, are ya?” Bucky’s tone was sour, but Steve didn’t let it faze him._   
  
_“Damn right, I am,” he answered firmly. “You wanna stay here and watch my six, this is how it’s going to be. Last part…? About the only thing you’re approved to do until we move out is cook. I catch you doing anything else, we’re going to have a problem. I’m dead serious, Bucky.”_   
  
_“Fine.” Bucky spit the word out, but he was very obviously furious with Steve. Even at his most petulant, that never set well with Steve. He hated having Bucky upset with him. Steve wasn't the most charming person on earth on his best days, but he still knew which buttons he could push with Bucky to garner at least a little forgiveness._   
  
_“C’mon, Buck, don’t be mad at me, okay? This is for your own good, just like all those times you forced that awful medicine down my throat and yelled at me when I was so sick that I wanted to give up.” Bucky’s scowl just deepened, so Steve leaned into his line of sight and smiled. It was the sweetest smile he had in his arsenal._   
  
_“Come on… I’ve got bourbon and chocolate in my pack, but I’m not gonna share it with a big ol’ sourpuss.”_   
  
_“You’re a royal piece of work, Rogers,” Bucky muttered, clearly trying his damnedest to stay pissed off at Steve._   
  
_“Yeah… but that’s nothin’ new,” Steve grinned._   
  
_“Trying to lure me into your bed with chocolate-” Bucky's sweet tooth was the stuff of legend between them, and Steve knew he almost had checkmate._   
  
_“And bourbon. Don’t forget that.”_   
  
_“Booze and chocolate,” Bucky hummed, fixing his eyes upon Steve in a way that made Steve’s stomach flutter. Heat teased his cheeks, but the fading light saved him any real embarrassment._   
  
_“Heath bars,” Steve mumbled, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “Six of ‘em.”_   
  
_“Whose ass did ya kiss for those,” Bucky gaped. They sometimes got Heath bars in their ration kits, but it was one per soldier._   
  
_“When have you ever known me to kiss anyone’s ass for anything, Bucky?” Steve laughed. “I’m not above accepting some of the perks of being Captain America. Taking a place with a bed so my pal can get the rest he needs? Accepted. Extra chocolate and a lifted half-full bottle of bourbon for saving two-hundred and thirty men? Done.”_   
  
_“You can’t get drunk though,” Bucky frowned, watching as Steve pulled off his helmet and picked up his pack that he’d left by the bed._   
  
_“No, but you still can,” Steve answered him solemnly, “and maybe that’ll help you get some sleep without having to take the amobarbital… because I know you don’t want to. I get it… but if you need it, you need it.”_   
  
_"Buck... look... You watch my six when we're out there, and I'll watch yours when we're in here." He held out the bottle to Bucky. To his relief, Bucky pulled off his own helmet and took the liquor from Steve’s hand. He uncapped the bottle and took a long swig from it._   
  
_“Oh wow,” he winced as it burned a path down to his gut, “that’s... that's really awful.”_   
  
_Steve just shrugged. “That’s what the chocolate’s for, jerk.”_   
  
  
  
_Later that night, Steve woke to Bucky jerking and groaning loudly in his sleep. Steve crawled onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his distressed friend. After a few minutes of whispering reassurances to Bucky, he settled, never fully rousing._   
  
_Steve remained with him, and the filled syringe remained upon the night stand._


	4. "...this isn't Apocalypse Now; it's Titanic."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony do their thing while Steve struggles to regain control.

Bucky cradled Steve’s head in his lap as he sat on the floor of the cockpit and waited for the all-clear to move. The cramping was growing worse for Steve, which meant it was starting to cause Bucky actual pain now. Steve was practically immobile save for the trembling of his body.   
  
“Sam?” The name felt different rolling off his tongue, but Steve never called his friend by his last name, so Bucky thought it might be better to follow suit. Besides, Sam started using his nickname, and that had been more comforting than Bucky would have expected.   
  
“Just got in the car. I’m on my way back to Stark's. Airport security cleared a path for you straight from the tarmac, and Tony hired a police escort to give you a smoother ride. You’re good to go.” Had it been a clearer day, Sam would have simply jetted off to the tower. A thick marine fog was hovering as low as two-hundred feet in places, and while Sam had tech to deal with that, there was no reason to take the chance today. Bucky and Steve would have to drive to the tower, so he’d still be there well ahead of them.   
  
“Been thinkin’ about when we get there,” Bucky muttered as he winced through a stronger twinge of pain. “Get us a room that neither of us can break out of. Get me a working comm too. Jarvis is great an’ all, but I might need to talk to someone off speaker… Also a change of clothes. Sure we both smell like shit.”   
  
While his words still scrambled around inside his head, he was learning to compose, then speak. It relieved him not to outwardly stutter or show weakness via confusion. Even though a part of him knew he would be amongst allies, part of him was pissed as hell that they were even in this situation to begin with. An even larger part of him was still feeling extremely feral and wanting to lash out. Sadly, he knew that part was larger still inside Steve. It didn’t make sense with his weaker serum, but Steve was fighting the more serious effects of the virus than him. Bucky only hoped Bruce Banner would have some idea of what to do.   
  
“Copy that,” Sam answered, now on speaker by the sound of the connection. Bucky could even detect the RPMs causing the engine to whine over the background noise. Sam was driving like a bat outta hell and Bucky found his sense of urgency touching. Steve had a phenomenal friend in Sam Wilson.    
  
“You said you thought the cramping might be Steve needing… food? How ‘bout I round up some things? See what works?”   
  
Bucky thought on that for a moment, staring down at the shaking mass clinging to him. The thought of inadvertently hurting Steve scared him, but Steve would be the first to say they should at least try. They’d just be cautious.   
  
“Do it. Don’t know if it’ll work, but we have to try.” It was a huge relinquishment of control, but Bucky added, “Do whatever you think is best… if you think I’ve missed anything.”   
  
“Got it,” Sam replied, all business. “Anything you want for you? I know you’re focusing on Steve, but we gotta take care of you too. Steve'll have my ass if I don't.”   
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“I think you got a recording of that phrase hidden somewhere and you just hit a button when someone asks how you are,” Sam griped at him. It almost felt like Steve bitching at him when he was being stubborn during his recovery. Just like Steve, Bucky knew that Sam would patiently keep at him until he relented.   
  
“You’re bringing food for Steve. I’ll try to eat whatever you bring.” He almost said Thai food, but that was something he enjoyed during quiet downtime with Steve. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to get sick from that, and give their beloved Thai food a negative connotation.

  
“Man, just think for a second and tell me something that sounds good to you right now.”   
  
“A cure,” Bucky answered without having to think. “I can’t think past that, Wilson… _Sam_.”   
  
Silence filled the cockpit for a heavy moment before Sam responded with a gentle, soothing tone.   
  
“Okay, man, I get it. No worries, I got this. I’m hanging up now to call ahead. I’ll make sure it’s all ready for you two. We’ll get you both through this.”   
  
“Thanks.” The connection went dead, so Bucky reached up and flipped the plane’s external comm off. Steve squeezed his thigh, and Bucky patted his hip. It was time to go.   
  
“Yep,” he sighed, helping Steve sit upright, “let’s move, Stevie.”   
  
The broken hiss that seeped from Steve made clear in the amount of pain he was in. Bucky winced as it echoed through his own gut, but he steadied himself upon his feet.   
  
“I know, pal. We just gotta get ya to the car, then you can go horizontal again,” he promised, holding out a hand. Steve grasped it, but Bucky still had to grip his harness and literally lift him with it.   
  
They staggered off the plane with Bucky supporting Steve. His eyes scanned their surroundings before he coaxed Steve forward. As much as he was worried about Steve’s state of mind, he was also painfully aware of his public image.They'd been told to keep their distance due to Steve and Bucky having been exposed to the virus. No one told them either man was infected. Being severely incapacitated was definitely not how Captain America should be seen by outsiders, so Bucky tried to make it look like Steve was walking mostly under his own power. Sam had taken care of the backpack and Steve’s shield so that helped their gait tremendously. That must have been a chore for the non-enhanced soldier; that shield was far heavier than people realized. Most men had trouble lifting it with any finesse with two hands, much less one the way Steve did. Howard had offered to try lessening the weight, but Steve had refused. The added weight kept it from being easily stolen or used against innocents during combat, and protecting civilians was always something Steve had been conscientious of.   
  


The tarmac and path to the vehicle provided by Tony seemed deserted to the casual eye, but Bucky easily detected the soldiers posted along their route. They were hidden well enough to someone lacking Bucky and Steve’s training and enhanced senses. Thankfully, Steve was in too much pain to be paying attention to much beyond putting one foot in front of the other. Bucky didn’t want him in pain, obviously, but it was keeping the part of Steve at bay that would otherwise start sniffing the air. There was no way that would end well at this stage, especially given how together Steve had been when the first cramps hit. He’d barely restrained himself from going after Sam. If his warped perceptions took hold now, it could end up a blood bath. Bucky wasn’t sure how strong Steve’s influence over him actually was, or how hard Steve was fighting off his own urges, but the cramping in Bucky’s gut wasn’t that easy to ignore. He sure as hell didn’t want to test their limits, so he was grateful that security personnel were heeding Sam’s warnings to stay away.   
  
The heavily-armored SUV came into view and Bucky squeezed Steve’s hip. “Almost there. Lot of eyes on us so keep your head up, Stevie,” he murmured, noticing the way Steve’s chin was starting to dip. Steve’s jaw locked and he lifted his face a bit more. Yet again, Bucky found himself in awe of his boyfriend… and didn’t that term just feel amazing to use? At least his mind had settled a bit since Sam found them, otherwise he might have pulled a safety flare and wrote some profound declaration of love in the air with its smoke.   
  
When they reached the Stark-modified Suburban, it was all Bucky could do not to open the door for Steve. He hated it, but appearances were important, especially when soldiers were present.It was also important to Steve’s general safety so no one thought this an opportune time to take a shot at Steve. That was something Bucky could support far more easily than a public image, so he gritted his teeth and watched from his peripheral as he went to the driver’s side. As expected, Steve refused to lay down once inside. He clutched his stomach, and a thin film of sweat broke out over his face. Bucky quickly shut the driver’s side door and put his hand upon the console between them. Steve’s eyed shifted down toward it, then he quickly put his hand next to Bucky’s. Even the small bit of contact from their pinkies to their wrist made a noticeable difference in Steve’s expression. His hair was still growing damp around his temples, but the tension in his jaw had relaxed.   
  
“Shouldn’t take long, Stevie. Hang on.”   
  
A curt nod was all that Steve could give, until they were away from the airport. Once the streets opened up along the route the police set up, Steve put four fingers to the back of Bucky’s neck and pinched. Hating hearing only his own voice in the SUV, Bucky caught Steve’s hand as it withdrew, and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. Steve’s eyes closed and he let his head lean back against the seat, finally willing to let himself go into a passive state.   
  
Arriving at Avengers Tower was strangely quiet. The eerily abandoned lobby and hallway that led to the elevators reminded Bucky too much of the Bank Tower in between zombie packs. He was infinitely glad for Jarvis addressing them once they entered the elevator.   
  
“Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers. I will guide you to the containment suite you requested. Sam has ensured that the items you require are already inside. Dr. Banner is currently on his way to the lab. Communications are already set up and secured.”   
  
Bucky leaned his head backward against the elevator wall. The term ‘containment’ made his chest feel tight, but he tried to distract himself from that.   
  
“Jarvis, are you ever going to stop calling me sergeant? I’ve been here off and on for over a year now, buddy.”   
  
“I do apologize, Sergeant, but I have no protocol to address you with a lesser title. Mr. Barnes hardly seems sufficient given your exemplary military career and heroism,” the AI responded smoothly. It was an ongoing back-and-forth between Bucky and the AI, and he suspected that Tony kept overriding his wishes.   
  
“I’m retired, Jarvis,” Bucky reminded him yet again. Weren’t computers supposed to not forget things? This had to be Junior's doing.    
  
And why in the hell was he arguing with a computer again?   
  
A quick glance at Steve reminded him. These exchanges always amused Steve, who was fine with whatever Jarvis addressed him as. Even now, through his pain, Steve had a faint grin gracing his lips. That made the frustrating, looping logic worth it somehow. Especially now.   
  
“You are still within your right to be addressed as sergeant,” Jarvis reasoned, “and as sir knows, your rank was carried over as your SHIELD rank.”   
  
Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve, but his boyfriend’s eyes were now closed as he focused upon managing his pain enough to remain upright.   
  
“I really don’t wanna be called sergeant or mister, Jarvis. Those are too stuffy, especially in my downtime.” He belatedly realized something and formed the sentence quickly in his head.    
  
“Hey, how did Sam manage to get you to call him by his first name?”   
  
“Sam requested it,” Jarvis responded simply, causing Bucky’s eyes to widen in disbelief.   
  
“I requested it too!”   
  
“Sir must ultimately approve the change in protocol.”   
  
“Sir… You mean Junior,” Bucky clarified, not stopping to think of how the technicalities would set Jarvis off.   
  
“While they do not share the identical birth names that would qualify Sir to be officially referred to as Junior, I believe we are in fact referencing the same person. Anthony Edward Stark.”   
  
“The fuck-” Bucky cut himself off before he could even finish that thought. He didn’t really want to go begging Tony for anything this petty. “Sorry, Jarvis but-”   
  
“There is no need to apologize, sir. Frequent swearing does not offend me, however your blood pressure and heart rate does elevate dramatically, which I am meant to monitor.”   
  
Right, that explained a lot, like why Steve was always right at his side when panic attacks, nightmares, or disassociation set in. Jarvis was reporting them to Steve immediately.   
  
“I live here, right?” Bucky asked, trying a different approach. Arguing with a bullheaded, pre-serum Steve had really honed his skill in manipulating a conversation. Whether or not it would work with a sophisticated AI remained to be seen.   
  
“You do, sir.”   
  
“And you’re supposed to tailor your... protocols… to fit what we like best… right?” He formed the question very carefully.   
  
“So long as it does not adversely affect security or safety, I am indeed, sir.”   
  
“Well as a resident of this tower, being called Bucky is what I like best, and that doesn’t affect anyone’s safety or their security.”   
  
“Sir makes an excellent point,” Jarvis conceded almost immediately. “I will update your identifier to Bucky. Would sir allow me to keep your name formal when not in the presence of Avenger Initiative personnel?”   
  
“Can we discuss that later, Jarvis?” The faint smile was still upon Steve’s lips, but he was looking more pale by the minute. Bucky also expected their floor was coming up any second.   
  
“Certainly, sir.”   
  
Thirty seconds later, Jarvis opened the elevator door to the sixty-ninth floor. That had to be some sick joke on Stark’s part, but Bucky wasn’t about to acknowledge it. He hefted Steve’s arm over his shoulder and exited the elevator to Jarvis’ instructions.   
  
“If sir will proceed to the end of the hallway, the containment suite is on the right-hand side.”   
  
“Jarvis,” Bucky frowned as he helped Steve down the hallway, “do you understand sign language?”   
  
“I do, sir.”   
  
“Okay, something is wrong with Steve’s voice, so he’s been using sign language. Unless either me or Steve tells you otherwise, please do not translate anything we say to one another.”   
  
“Sir still understands my override requirements for safety and security?”   
  
“Yeah, Jarvis, I do,” Bucky gritted his teeth as Steve stumbled, nearly taking them both down. “It won’t compromise your protocols. Sometimes people just need a little privacy.”   
  
“Very well, sir. Conversation between yourself and Captain Rogers will remain private unless otherwise instructed,” Jarvis assured as they entered the suite.   
  
“Thanks, Jarvis.”   
  
“You are very welcome, Bucky.”   
  
It looked like a normal suite, just as well-appointed as the other living spaces within the tower, except Bucky noticed all heavy furniture was welded to the floor. The room felt a comfortable temperature to Bucky, which meant the thermostat was likely set a little low to accommodate their higher body temperatures. There were a few windows, but they were tiny by comparison. Too tiny to throw the amount of seemingly natural light inside the suite. It was either really amazing artificial light, or Stark figured out a way to use the light to its fullest. The color palette of the room was in the blue family, rich yet soothing hues that put Bucky a little more at ease since he’d been worriedly expecting a sparse, sterile setting. There was an obvious camera protected by a metal cage. Beside it was a large monitor and two comms. Bucky knew damn well there were more cameras hidden about the suite. This was, after all, meant for containment, and containment required close supervision. It raised his hackles, but he knew it was necessary for now, at least until they had some answers.   
  
Once Bucky’s inner soldier was satisfied with his assessment of the suite, his stomach took over his sensory perceptions. Various sumptuous smells lured him to drag Steve to the kitchen. Spread out over the table were several dishes ranging from barbequed pork and rare steak to fresh sushi and tuna salad. Side dishes included the likes of chicken chow mein, garlic mashed potatoes, pineapple fried rice, and various pastas. To the side, there was also a covered platter with a small heating element under it. When Bucky sat Steve down and checked, it looked like strips of tuna sushi, except the meat was more dense in texture. It had to be beef. Steve had his fingers clenched around Bucky’s waistband, and his knuckles dug into Bucky’s back as his fist twitched in response.   
  
“How ‘bout we try the steak first, huh?”   
  
Steve looked relieved as Bucky stabbed one with a fork and lobbed it onto Steve’s plate. Not feeling the same level of desperation as Steve, he opted for some of the barbeque on a large, wheat bun. As Steve started cutting into his steak, Bucky ran his hand over the blond’s hair.   
  
“Just a sec. Gonna grab those comms, okay?”   
  
Steve was too busy shoveling the meat into his mouth to give much of a reply. He felt the spark of pain when he broke contact, but it only took him a moment to grab the comms and get back. He quickly grabbed two waters for them before sitting himself down beside Steve, who was already in distress again despite eating. He dropped his fork to his plate and hunched over, unable to tolerate the growing pain. Bucky was at a loss.   
  
“Okay… uh…” Bucky looked between them and eyed the covered tray warily. “Here, Stevie…”   
  
He unsnapped his jacket again, this time pulling it off entirely along with his shoulder holster. Steve’s hand instantly pushed under his shirt, and his body relaxed a little. Bucky slung his left arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close. He stabbed a piece of steak and fed it to Steve, feeling like they were right back to the old days, and that couldn’t be easy for Steve. He still allowed Bucky to continue feeding him though.    
  
They’d put away three huge steaks with Bucky taking the occasional bite, when their comms pinged loudly. They both pressed the comms into their ears, and raised their eyes to the monitor across the front room when it flickered on. Bruce Banner’s somber visage greeted them, and Bucky let out a shaky breath.   
  
“Hey, Dr. Banner,” he called. Bruce gave him a reassuring smile.   
  
“Sergeant Barnes,” he nodded. “Steve. I’d hoped to see you both again under better circumstances.”   
  
“Yeah, us too,” Bucky answered easily. “Look… I think we’re gonna be in each other’s faces a lot… and I don’t want to feel like I’m still on the field… D’ya mind just calling me Bucky?”   
  
“Sure, but that goes both ways,” Bruce smiled as he kept looking down at something below his camera feed. “I’m really only called Dr. Banner when politicians are running around with a crisis so…” He looked up at the camera and shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Bruce is good.”   
  
He frowned down again, clearly reading what Bucky assumed to be stats or readouts as he spoke.   
  
“Okay, first thing’s first… I really need you both to allow Jarvis to scan you. I need a comparison to ones we took before you were infected. I’m analyzing the blood samples Ella took from you. Obviously some new samples should be taken.”   
  
Bruce glanced up with the silent question in his words. He knew Bucky’s aversion to being poked at, and was trying to be considerate of that. Bucky chewed at the inside of his cheek.   
  
“Whatever you need from me to help Steve, just tell me.”   
  
“That’s what we need to give us a start. Sam mentioned… hunger urges?”   
  
Steve managed a snort and quickly signed to Bucky.   
  
** Polite way to put it. **   
  
“You could say that, yeah… Steve is… Mine seem to be… by proxy?” Bucky hoped like hell that Bruce didn’t think he’d lost his mind entirely.   
  
“Proxy?” Bruce questioned. “How do you mean?”   
  
“I think I’m only feeling it because... Steve is? It didn’t start until his cramps did, but it’s not so strong that I think I’d go after anyone.” He tapped the table top nervously as he watched Bruce’s reaction. “Ella mentioned… a hive mind?”   
  
“Oh, okay that,” Bruce nodded, seemingly unfazed by Bucky’s admission. “Sam told me he thought you were more affected by the virus at first, then he thought maybe Steve was. Now he thinks maybe you're just getting different bad effects from it. If you can give me a quick rundown of what problems you’re having, we can get the scan and the samples, then I can get to work over here and get out of your faces for a little while.”   
  
“Doc, after what we’ve just been through, seeing your face is a relief,” Bucky admitted. “Don’t know what we woulda done if we’d had to deal with CDC or some random SHIELD doctor.”   
  
Bruce seemed to appreciate the vote of confidence. “I’m gonna do my best. Do either of you know how to draw blood?”   
  
“Better than even I’m comfortable with,” Bucky deadpanned, causing another snort from Steve. “I think we mean two different things though, so you’re gonna haveta walk me through it.”   


The doctor gave a slight wince at Bucky’s sarcasm, but he gestured as if pointing toward the suite’s exiting door.   
  
“Over by the door to the hallway, there’s an airlock exchange. The blood draw kit is in the cabinet below the coffee table. I’ll walk you through the first draw, then you can leave the vials in that airlock. I’ll send Sam over to get them.”   
  
“Speaking of,” Bucky sighed, rubbing gentle circles against Steve’s skin and not caring what cameras caught it, “how secure are we in here?”

  
Bruce’s lips curled into a dry, humorless smile. “Most secure area in the building, Bucky.”   
  
“Even against us?”   
  
“You think you might be a problem?”   
  
“I’d rather not take that chance,” Bucky huffed. “Neither would Steve.”   
  
“That room was built specifically for me,” Bruce told him quietly after a long pause. “It’ll hold you as long as we need it to.”   
  
The muscles in Steve’s back relaxed significantly despite the fact that he was still in a lot of pain. Bucky had to admit to feeling pretty relieved himself, even if it was likely to set off a panic attack at some point. He’d fight it, of course, but once the novelty wore off and he actually started to feel trapped, all hell was likely to break loose. If they couldn’t get Steve’s hunger satiated at least enough to alleviate some of his pain, that situation would quickly go downhill as well.   
  
“The longer we’re in here…” Bucky glanced around worriedly. “It’s nice an’ all but…”   
  
“It’s still a cage,” Bruce finished for him. “I know, Bucky. Let’s get going on those samples and scans.”   
  
_________________________________________   
  
  
They were back to where they were on the plane, only worse. Steve’s head was again in Bucky’s lap, but he could barely remain still. The anguish was bleeding over into Bucky more now, and he was feeling himself become more and more agitated by it. It was no wonder the hordes went into a frenzy so easily. He and Steve were definitely caught in a feedback loop. The more Steve spiraled, the more Bucky did. The further Bucky fell, the faster Steve seemed to spiral.   
  
Bucky tapped his comm on, and their monitor clicked on. Bruce was there with weary, concerned eyes.   
  
“Tell me you’ve got something, Bruce.” To his horror, his voice was reverting back to the low, grating hiss of when he first resurrected. “We’re… not doing good…”   
  
Bruce looked equally discomfited by the change in them after only two hours, though he retained that outward calm that offset the manic nature that Tony exuded. As if summoned by Bucky’s thoughts, Tony’s head appeared in the display suddenly.   
  
“Jesus,” he muttered. “So you really are Capsicle’s goth boy-toy now, huh? We’re definitely gonna have to get you both cleaned up before the engagement pictures. Don’t worry, we’re on it.”   
  
“Not helping, Tony,” Bruce sighed.   
  
“What?” Tony asked innocently. “You told me to distract them. This is what I do-”   
  
A threatening hiss rolled off of Steve, and he raised his eyes toward the monitor. Bucky’s heart sank as he saw the strange green had spread within his irises. Tony’s eyes widened in response.   
  
“Did Cap just hiss at me? I always thought he was kinda overly pissy like an old alley cat that someone stepped on too many times… Hey! You should dye his hair black, then you two can be like My Chemical Romance meets Milli Vanilli: Cheesy and a bit outdated, but angsty. I’d say we could dye your hair blond, Barnes, but I think you’re both a little too woobie to be the Nelson twins… Or is that the Olsen twins-”   
  
“Sir, Bucky’s heart rate has surpassed the safety parameters you set forth.” Bucky faintly heard Jarvis speaking to Tony on the other end of the comm.   
  
“Bucky…?! Jarvis, when did you start calling him Bucky?”   
  
“Per his request, Sir.”   
  
“So you let Jarvis start calling you Bucky before us?”   
  
“ _ Stark! _ ” Bucky’s demonic warning snarl echoed off the walls of the containment suite. Steve was in serious distress beside him, tensed and hissing continuously. If Tony had been in the room with them, the chances of him being dead already were high even with his suit on standby.   
  
Tony’s face immediately went serious, his eyes flicking to something to his right. He glanced to his left, then nodded.   
  
“Okay calm down, Buckaroo Bonsai,” he muttered, beginning to type furiously. “We needed to get a read on your vitals and how your bodies reacted to increased heart rate.”   
  
“You… did that… on purpose?” Bucky was having trouble with his speech again. He tried to remember the breathing to calm himself, hoping it would feed into Steve, or at least slow everything down. It was a hard sell though. His brain wasn’t wanting to pull back from the rage-fueled frenzy he was in.   
  
“Why… Why would you do that?” He was panting and breaking into a sweat like Steve now.  
  
“Because we’ve been monitoring you, Bucky.” That was Sam’s voice, but he was just out of camera shot. “Seemed like the longer you were at rest, the more you reverted back to how you were when I found you. Obviously that’s a big problem.”   
  
Bucky fell back against the couch and pulled Steve closer to him. He wrapped his arms around Steve, who hadn’t calmed much until Sam’s voice came over their comms. He was tense still, but the hissing died off quickly the more Sam spoke. Bucky rolled his head to the side to glare at the monitor.   
  
“Pissing us off helped?”   
  
“Not so much that as just getting your heart rate up,” Sam offered by way of explanation.   
  
“Sex woulda worked too, but Bruce said it would be awkward,” Tony clarified, and Steve let out a snarling hiss.   
  
“Jesus, Tony,” Bruce groaned quietly as Sam smacked Tony upside his head.   
  
“Hey! My tower, my snark. This whole situation is morbid enough as it is. I’m trying to bring levity to the table.”   
  
“Except you’re not funny,” Sam grunted and folded his arms over his chest as he stepped into view. He eyed the camera worriedly. “You still with us, Steve?”   
  
Steve’s hissing ceased, and he focused his eyes upon Sam. His pupils dilated as he watched the screen intently. Bucky’s stomach lurched sharply as he felt Steve’s hunger eclipse his anger.   
  
“He hasn’t talked much... since we ate,” Bucky explained, stroking Steve’s hair gently. “His eyes… wrong again… worse, I mean.”   
  
“Bucky, did either of you eat what was in the covered dish?” Bruce asked.

  
“No,” Bucky answered, turning up his nose. “Didn’t look good.”   
  
“Don’t bother with that now,” Bruce warned. “It’s been out too long. We’re going to bring you something fresh. It important that you eat it.”    
  
He tapped the keyboard in front of Tony a couple of times, then looked up at his camera. “Neither of you threw up, but did the cooked food make you feel worse?”   
  
Bucky considered the question. He tapped Steve’s hip in silent question, but Steve was still fixated upon Sam. On the screen, Sam’s eyes widened and he stepped out of view of their camera feed. Steve’s position relaxed only slightly, but it was enough that Bucky managed to regain his attention.   
  
“Stevie… did the food bother you?”   
  
Steve’s brows knitted for a considering moment before he shook his head. His eyes flicked back to the monitor. With Sam out of sight, he curled closer to Bucky and slowly started to shiver again.   
  
“Didn’t hurt,” Bucky muttered sadly, “but didn’t help either… not long anyway.”   
  
“Alright, that’s falling in line with a theory I’ve got,” Bruce murmured, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “We could be looking at your bodies no longer being able to handle elevated pH and ash levels. Those go up when you cook red meat. We haven’t exactly been seeing the infected chasing around chickens, but they have attacked cows and horses. Pigs have been spotted alive with only bites on them, so we’re looking at something in red meat, likely myoglobin.”    
  
“Now cows and horses are bigger than us, but the infected have pulled a few human riders from their saddles and let the horses get away. For our size, we carry more myoglobin in our muscles than any other mammal because our muscles multi-task all day… So my second theory is that it might not be ash and pH value at all, but just the myoglobin itself.”   
  
“But there’s still the issue of cooking,” Tony muttered, taking a long swig from his smoothie.   
  
“Yeah,” Bruce frowned down at his readouts, “Heat puts the myoglobin’s dioxygen molecule under duress. It causes the iron atom to excrete electrons and then the oxidation state goes up.”   
  
“And then it’s not myoglobin anymore,” Tony concluded, his lips pooching into a thoughtful pout. “Party foul.”   
  
“Uh huh,” Bruce muttered. “Totally.”   
  
“Salt curing?” Tony offered, but Bruce shook his head.   
  
“Probably not, though we can try it. Nitrites convert myoglobin into nitrosomyoglobin. Apply heat and you’ve got nitrosohemochrome…”   
  
“Damn these picky molecules and their pesky diva ways,” Tony huffed.   
  
Bruce looked pensive for a second. “If that happened to work, it would be great because nitrites retard bacteria from growing, like botulism. So, that’s cool. Be easier for them to pack along on a mission.”   
  
“Uh… still here. Lost me at molecules,” Bucky called out in irritation. Steve was breaking into a sweat again. “Neither of us is going on any missions like this. We’re either cured, or we’re retired.”   
  
“Hang on, Buck,” Sam cut back into the conversation calmly, though Bucky heard something squeaking and clinking in the background of Sam’s comm. “I think I get where he’s goin’ with this, so just bear with us. I’m already on my way back from the kitchen, okay?”   
  
“Okay…” He didn’t like the way Steve’s muscles tensed back up when Sam’s voice came back over the comm. “Bruce…? Why is Steve so… feral…? He’s barely talking now.”   
  
Tony actually answered for Bruce.   
  
“Couple theories, Perestroika,” he drawled. “First…? He got the brunt of it, and because you only sucked face with him... thanks for that disturbing imagery by the way, Sam… you didn’t get hit with quite the full wrath of the virus. His uber serum had already started fighting it when you swapped spit.”    
  
Tony suddenly looked up at the camera. “Did he taste like Cherry Cola…? Oh wait that’s not what’s in the song- nevermind.”   
  
“C’mon, man,” Sam complained. “I’mma rat you out to your metal-head buddies, you start seriously quoting Lana del Rey… Especially over… that.”   
  
“Two,” Tony continued brightly, ignoring Sam’s threat. “Your serum’s from those fuddy duddy HYDRA crackheads and since they likely engineered this virus, it wasn’t supposed to affect their favorite super assassin at all… but then there’s that whole tongue tango you did with Cap, and you got a fast-mutated version of the virus instead of the one you would have otherwise been immune to. This is actually the one most likely, unfortunately. You crazy kids letting your hormones get you into trouble.”   
  
He looked over at Bruce. “Hey, do they make tongue condoms? Is that a thing we can look into for them since Cap’s hit puberty now?”   
  
“Tony, stop,” Bruce groaned.   
  
“Sir, Captain Rogers’ heart rate is-”   
  
The punch came out of nowhere. It caught Bucky so hard that he landed on the floor on his stomach. Steve rolled him over and climbed atop him, straddling his hips to maintain his leverage. He gripped Bucky by his shirt and picked him up just enough to slam him back against the floor. It knocked the wind from his lungs, but didn't actually hurt him. Still, Bucky blinked up at Steve in shock, caught totally off guard by Steve's outburst. It stung until the tears in Steve’s eyes told him that Steve hadn’t turned on him. He was pissed. Pissed and upset at Bucky for infecting himself. His chest heaving and his face red with frustration, he gave Bucky another hard shake before signing fast and heated at him.   
  
** You stupid fucking asshole. You only got sick because it was me you used to infect yourself. **   
  
On the monitor, Tony’s eyes bugged and even Bruce looked a little stunned.   
  
“Did Cap just drop the f-bomb? With asshole after it? Jesus, Bruce, it really is Apocalypse Now.”  
  
"Bucky requested that I not translate sign language between Captain Rogers and himself, but if Sir recognizes the language-"  
  
"I know the swear words, Jarvis," Tony tutted with a wave of his hand. "I know the swear words in every language."  
  
"Duly noted, Sir."   
  
Bucky couldn’t focus on anyone but Steve. He made no effort to throw Steve off of him, despite the overwhelming urge to. He dug his fingers into Steve’s thighs and met Steve’s gaze head on.   
  
“Already told you, Stevie… Can’t leave me here. Can’t do it. Not gonna stay without you.”   
  
“Holy shit, this isn’t Apocalypse Now,” Tony gaped, “it's Titanic. If I hear one note of Celine Dion, I’m killing the arc reactor and dropping us into the dark ages until they’ve been de-programed.”   
  
“Tony, shut the hell up,” Sam growled. “Bucky, come to the door and get this food. Right now.”   
  
Bucky looked over at the door, and the airlock exchange opened. All he could see of Sam was his chest, but the food he brought wasn’t the only thing Bucky could smell wafting into the room.   
  
“Sorry, Steve,” he muttered and threw Steve off of him. Thankfully Steve was distracted by Sam, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able too. Still mindful of the pain Steve was feeling, Bucky latched onto his hand to drag him upright. He kept hold of Steve to maintain their contact as he went to retrieve the covered platter Sam pushed through the exchange. The moment he pulled the platter free, Steve lunged at the opening, shoving his arm past it to grab at Sam. He caught hold of Sam’s shirt, and Sam had to tear it to get free. Bucky had set the platter on the floor and was trying to pull Steve back.   
  
"Damn it, Steve, knock it off!"  
  
It took him a full ten minutes to manhandle Steve into the first available room down the hallway. Jarvis locked them both in since Bucky couldn’t leave him, allowing Sam to bring in the rest of the trays in peace. Jarvis put Sam’s comm through solely to Bucky, and Sam’s voice rang soothingly through his ears.   
  
“Sure you don’t need anything of your own?”   
  
Bucky slid down against the bathroom wall and watched as Steve tried to slam his way through the door with his shoulder. Being Hulk-proof meant he wasn’t making a bit of headway. He wasn’t even letting the lack of contact slow him down.   
  
“It’s a lot to ask but-”   
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Sam cut in. “Just tell me what you need.”   
  
“Steve’s apartment… His sketchpad… my… my watch. I really need my watch, Sam.”   
  
“You got it.” Bless Sam for not questioning such an odd request. Bucky wouldn’t be able to explain it right now anyway.   
  
“Sorry about your shirt,” Bucky murmured, feeling drained. “We’ll replace it, I promise.”   
  
“You gotta get better to do that so… deal.” It sounded like there was a smile behind Sam’s words. Bucky chose to believe that whether it was really there or not.   
  
“You know Steve doesn’t… He would never-”   
  
“Man, I know that,” Sam interrupted sharply. “Don’t even apologize for this. We’ll figure it out.”   
  
Bucky heard a loud click over the comm. “I’m out. Get your asses out there and eat.”   
  
“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky sighed, wiping moisture from his lashes and steeling himself to deal with Steve. “We owe you.”   
  
“Nope,” Sam rebuked him firmly. “Steve would do the same for me. No one owes anyone anything here.”   
  
“Thanks,” Bucky repeated weakly.   
  
“Don’t mention it. Just go eat. Don’t make my shirt have died in vain,” Sam cracked.   
  
The comm went dead so Bucky took a deep breath and pushed himself up off the floor. He didn’t approach Steve, instead looking up slightly.   
  
“Jarvis, can you unlock the door now?”   
  
“Of course, sir.”   
  
Another loud click and Steve burst through the door, stalking straight for the airlock. Finding it sealed back up, he pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the wall beside it and panted heavily. Bucky cautiously approached him, and reached out to ease his fingers under Steve’s collar. Steve’s knees immediately buckled and he curled in upon himself.   
  
“No, Steve, c’mon,” Bucky pleaded. “Get up. We gotta eat.”   
  
When Steve didn’t move, Bucky squared his shoulders and hardened his tone.   
  
“Get the fuck up, Rogers. That’s a fucking order.”   
  
Steve Rogers had petulance down to a fine art. He was a master. Bucky, however, was a master at kicking his ass back into line when needed. He hauled Steve up by his harness and dragged him over to the couch, where he shoved him down onto the plush cushions. Yanking the cover off the first platter, he sat down next to Steve and pushed a fork into his hand as he tried to ignore what they were about to actually eat.   
  
“Eat, Steve. Now. I mean it.”   
  
  
  
Forty minutes later, the trays were empty, and the room was silent. Bruce had killed the comm and monitor connection to give them some privacy, and also so that he and Tony could continue to work. Steve was curled against Bucky, who stroked his hair to soothe him. The cramps had stopped, and Steve’s behavior had righted itself. His voice was still gone, but he wasn’t even attempting to sign. Fat tears of shame rolled from beneath his lashes in spite of Bucky’s attempts to ease the guilt he felt. All he could really do was to hold onto Steve, and wait until he heard Steve’s breathing even out before he let himself slip into the darkness as well.   
  
____________________________________   
  
  
“So why me? Why didn’t he freak out on either of you? He hissed at Tony.”   
  
Sam had changed into his uniform, and was talking to Bruce via comm as he headed to the helipad. The weather had cleared enough for him to wing it to DC. It was much faster than normal commute methods, and he only had to pick up a couple of things. The night air would do wonders for his clearing his head.    
  
“Sorry to say it, Sam,” Bruce answered candidly, “but Steve couldn’t smell us. He’s got your scent and, unlike the other infected, he’s aware enough to connect your scent to a name, face, and voice.”   
  
“Shit,” Sam sighed as he fastened the last strap across his chest and adjusted his flight goggles. “Do you think you’re gonna be able to help them?”   
  
“Fifty-fifty,” the doctor answered bluntly, but in a way that still sounded gentle.   
  
“Hey Sam,” Tony joined in with a grin bleeding through his voice, “if you get sick of being an Avenger, you’ve got the Chippendale’s thing down.”   
  
“Man, that’s just wrong,” Sam grimaced. “Falcon out,” he growled, shutting down his comm. He gave the New York skyline a quick once over, then threw his arms out to the side. His wings engaged, and his thrusters fired up as he stepped off the helipad. All he could hope for was for things to be a little better when he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy this chapter gave me fits, mainly because of Jarvis, of all things. I don't know why, but his dialogue just did not come easy to me at all, so if it's not quite right, I'm really sorry. There's also no really good, detailed sourcing for Stark/Avengers Tower, so I used this reference and a bit of creative license:
> 
> http://maniceclectic.tumblr.com/
> 
> Don't even get me started on researching the primary biological differences between different species' meat/muscles. Dear gawd. Why did I do this to myself again? Oh yeah... those two idiots...
> 
> You're all amazing for indulging me. Love every one of ya! MWAH!


	5. "Sorry I punched you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let it never be said that Bucky isn't resourceful and wickedly creative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I mentioned needing a shock blanket for this chapter, but that scene got pushed back to the next posting. This one got into a certain groove that I was liking and these two so desperately needed a little sweetness... and heat.

He was aware of the cramping in his gut before anything else. The next was that Steve was no longer laying down with him. His absence left a chilled patch of Bucky’s skin in its wake. Steve was in pain and he was pacing. That got Bucky sitting up before he could think much along the lines of anything coherent. He wasn’t sure how much sense it made, but he knew he wasn’t really hungry. This was Steve’s distress he was feeling, but that made it worse. He could deal with his own pain far easier than Steve’s.    
  
Bucky’s eyes focused upon the clock near the monitor. Three forty-one in the morning.   
  
“Steve, why didn’t you ask them to bring in more food?” He asked the question as he levered himself off the couch. The look Steve shot him as he approached could have melted a car, but in this was an emotion Bucky was well-versed at dealing with. Pissy Steve was nothing new to him.   
  
“Jarvis?”   
  
Strangely, the AI didn’t answer. Bucky’s brows rose and he glanced at the ceiling. They were in the most secure building they could ever hope to hole up in, but Jarvis’ lack of response set off too much unease. He reached for his Sig before he remembered that he’d asked Sam to take care of their weapons back on the plane. Neither he nor Steve wanted to risk hurting anyone if they lost control of themselves.   
  
“Fuck,” he muttered, but reached out to Steve to stop his pacing long enough to rub a hand over his back. “Hang on, okay? Gonna comm Bruce.”   
  
He settled his earpiece back into his ear and tapped it on. The monitor synced up automatically, showing Bruce and Tony with their heads together and frowning at a holographic scan of Steve. His insides, anyway. Bucky didn’t need a face superimposed over the arrangement of organs to know that silhouette.    
  
“Hey guys?”   
  
Both men looked over at the monitor on their end, then shifted their eyes to the camera.   
  
“It’s aliiive,” Tony yelled.   
  
“Jarvis isn’t answering us,” Bucky frowned, ignoring Tony entirely. “Everything okay?”   
  
“You were both sleeping so we had Jarvis go into passive mode. We thought you might want some privacy, Bucky,” Bruce explained, his eyes obviously tracking Steve as he paced. “What happened?”   
  
“Steve has metabolism like a runaway train, guys,” Bucky huffed, annoyed that they could forget that. “He’s cramping up and couldn’t hail Jarvis to get more food up here.”   
  
“Sorry, Rose,” Tony drawled as he pulled up another holograph with a listing of food items on it, “we figured Jack would wake you up if he needed anything. He could’ve pinged the comm too.”   
  
Bucky tried to guide Steve over to the couch, but Steve angrily shrugged him off. Bucky rubbed his eyes and glared over at Tony.   
  
“Seriously Junior, I… I really can’t do this with you… Not now. It’s almost four in the morning and my boyfriend’s in a lot of pain. Can you just… Steve needs to be able to hail Jarvis on his own… Okay?”   
  
“Aww you called him boyfriend, but you called me Junior. Not the best way to get me to-”   
  
Bruce put his hand to Tony’s chair and shoved, sending the wheeled office chair out of frame with Tony still in it. He looked deeply apologetic.   
  
“We can do that. Maybe you could talk to Steve to see what would work best for him. He just needs to initiate contact when he’s in passive mode, then Jarvis’ll start reading his sign language.”   
  
Tony’s head appeared back in frame. “I’m sorry, who’s Jarvis’ daddy in this room?”   
  
“How are things looking over there?” Bucky asked wearily, again ignoring Tony’s obnoxiousness. Like Howard, if he got the younger Stark talking science, the more irritating quirks would dial back significantly.   
  
“I can see the scan from here. Have you figured out why he can’t speak?”   
  
Steve paused at that, his mottled eyes raising expectantly. Bucky cringed inwardly when Tony and Bruce exchanged glances.   
  
“Uh… yeah,” Bruce answered hesitantly. “Did you want to wait until you’ve eaten again, Steve? Might help if you’re feeling calmer.”   
  
Steve shook his head sharply, and Bucky staggered backward. Steve’s hand shot out to steady him as Bucky tried to wrap his frazzled brain around what he’d just felt. He could only compare it to a superheated blast of air traveling through his body. It felt like a spike of rage, but it didn’t feel like the kind of rage he usually experienced. His was normally vengeful, or borne of pure hatred. This was sheer frustration boiling over.   
  
This was Steve he was feeling.   
  
Even if Steve hadn’t answered, Bucky would have known how to respond.   
  
“No, he needs to know,” Bucky grimaced. Steve’s eyes were on him, so he squeezed his hand down over the one holding his bicep. “We both do.”   
  
“You okay, Buckster?” Tony’s expression was honestly concerned.    
  
“I uh…” His eyes darting a little in an attempt to focus, Bucky tugged at Steve to urge him to sit down. Now that he’d seen Bucky become unsteady on his feet, Steve relented.   
  
“It’s this… this hive mind thing? I’m pretty sure it’s real. I can… feel things from him… like I’m not really hungry… but I feel  him  being hungry. Just now he got really pissed that you asked if he wanted to wait.”   
  
“That’s pretty extraordinary, but I imagine it’s disconcerting as hell,” Bruce offered sympathetically. He bit at his lip then took his glasses off to scratch at one of his eyes.   
  
“Okay, so… we’ve seen that the virus does a number on the infected’s internal organs and tissues. Basically, it breaks down the host body pretty quickly. In the normal cases we’ve seen, feeding slows that process down. In Steve’s case, the serum enabled his body to fight off that deterioration overall. He’s got lesions everywhere where his body keeps healing patches of decay.”   
  
“That’s a good thing though,” Bucky blinked back at them. “Isn’t it?”   
  
“Sure it is,” Bruce assured him solidly, but Bucky could still hear the bad news coming, and he tried to brace himself for it.   
  
“Steve, you don’t have much left of you vocal cords,” the doctor finished, but quickly held up his hands to add, “but we don’t know yet if that will stay permanent. We don’t know the extent of your body’s ability to regenerate versus how destructive this virus is. We’re still working that out, but we’ve got a few ideas.”   
  
Steve shoulders sagged a fraction, but he kept his composure while eyes were on him. Bucky wanted to cry for him, but he didn’t dare. It wasn’t what Steve needed now.   
  
“We’ve got some of the best helping us brainstorm on this,” Bruce offered supportively, though Bucky knew how empty that felt to Steve, even without the bits of resonance he was starting to pick up from his partner.   
  


“We’ll come up with something. It’s just a matter of when.”   
  
“Yeah, thanks guys… We’re gonna run silent for a bit until the food gets here.”   
  
Bruce and Tony both just nodded, and the screen went dark. Steve instantly deflated and dropped his head into his hands. Bucky slowly stroked his hand over Steve’s hair and down his back. He had to have faith in the two geniuses in that lab. He had to have enough faith for himself, and twice as much for Steve.   
  
** I hate this ** , Steve signed suddenly.   
  
“I know,” Bucky answered. He leaned over and kissed Steve’s shoulder, choosing not to say more. There was no point in trying to placate Steve just then; he wasn’t in a frame of mind to accept that kind of comfort, even from Bucky. The best Bucky could hope to do was distract him.   
  
“Hey… you should have woken me up when you started feeling bad,” Bucky murmured. “I know you don’t like feeling dependent… and I know you feel like you’re being thrown back to that time… but you’re not dependent upon me anymore, Steve. You’re not helpless. You just can’t run your yap anymore… and you have a new diet.”   
  
** Little more complicated than that, Bucky.   
**   
“No, it’s not,” Bucky shrugged. “It isn’t. We can still have Thai food and watch a movie. We can still protect ourselves. We’re not mindless and feral like the others are. We can still communicate and think mostly clearly-”   
  
** That’s just it; I can’t think clearly when this starts. I couldn’t think to ping the comm. I couldn’t think past that airlock and how I could bust it open far enough to get us free. **

  
“Okay, but that’s thinking clearly,” Bucky shrugged with a toss of his hands. “You just had a bit of tunnel vision. We all get that sometimes, Stevie. We just gotta keep you eating regularly until the Bobbsy Twins come up with something better.”

**  
Bobbsy Twins? ** Steve looked amused, which was a marked step up from being pissed off.   
  
“Yeah… It was an old book that Katie wanted me to read to her. Twelve-year-old twins that went on adventures and solved mysteries.” 

  
Katie was a shy, six-year-old that had become inexplicably talkative and affectionate with Bucky when they’d volunteered to visit a children's oncology ward. She didn’t like being touched and was self-conscious of her hair loss. Bucky told her that he understood feeling that way because it was still hard for him to let doctors near him sometimes. He also told her she still looked cool, and how he didn’t always like his prosthetic. After that, she’d climbed into his lap with the book in hand, effectively claiming him as hers for the rest of the visit. Nurses kept peering into Katie’s room just to see it for themselves because the child had been completely withdrawn with everyone else. Her mother had become so overwhelmed that she had to leave Katie’s room for a bit in order to compose herself.    
  
When they had to leave, Katie’s mother had thrown her arms about Bucky and sobbed her gratitude against his chest. At a loss for how to deal with the unexpected reaction, Bucky had written down his private email for her so that Katie could send him messages. Every Sunday since, Bucky made sure to sit down and respond, regardless of where he and Steve currently were at the time. He also attached a couple pictures to each email, usually silly selfies of himself and Steve. Little Katie was now the only kid on the planet that was cool enough to have a picture of Captain America looking cross-eyed at the camera with frozen yogurt on the tip of his nose. She was also one of the few people outside of Bucky to have Steve specifically paint something for her. All it took was a mention of missing being able to play in the snow at Mirror Lake, and Steve had been all over it because he still remembered how it felt to have to skip snowball wars and frosty, half-assed forts.   
  
** We should email Katie soon ** , Steve signed with a sad smile.  ** We don’t know what’s going to happen so- **

  
“No, stop right there,” Bucky grabbed Steve’s hands to halt his words. His chest hurt from even thinking about all the ways this could still end badly. “Don’t even talk like that. I mean it, Steve… I can’t. It’s still early on. Gotta give ‘em a chance to do their thing.”   
  
He wanted to go back to seeing Steve in his iconic uniform with four children dangling from each of his arms as he laughed and lifted them as though they were nothing more than little kittens. He’d been so amazingly content to tell them stories and listen to theirs in return as they played with the buckles and belts on his uniform. His eyes had been so bright as they took turns trying on his helmet while he drew pictures for them with the communal box of crayons.

  
“I mean, we can still send the email but… because we’re just cooling our jets right now… not because of… anything else.”   
  
Steve stared long and hard at Bucky. He waited for Steve to launch into a different argument, but it never came. What came instead was something that caught Bucky a little off guard.   
  
** Sorry I punched you. **

  
“No you’re not,” Bucky laughed. “Even if you aren’t, doesn’t matter. Not that big a deal. S’not like you actually hurt me.” In truth, Steve did pack a mean left hook for not being an actual leftie, and it had stunned him for a moment. He wasn’t about to admit it though.   
  
** I was just so angry with you ** .    
  
Steve looked like he hated to admit being that upset with Bucky, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten pissed off at one another. They were too strong-willed as individuals for Bucky to believe it’d be the last.

  
“I know you were. Probably still are... but I would never make a different call, Steve,” Bucky explained solemnly. “If I hadn’t, I’d be stuck out there in the hallway with Sam, dying over you being in here alone. All those times I sat with you through contagious illnesses as a kid… What makes you think I’d change now? Not gonna let you do this alone. Not gonna let you leave me alone.”   
  
Steve sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, evidently trying to keep his temper from flaring over the topic again. He stood with his hand pressed to his stomach as he walked closer to the windows.   
  
** Still so busy out there. **

  
“Sure there’s a lot of reasons,” Bucky answered as he joined Steve. Still being so early, the city below was actually very quiet, but Bucky knew what Steve meant. Unlike LA, New York’s heart still seemed to be beating beneath the chaos. The differences between the two cities had been glaring as Bucky drove them to the tower.   
  
“People here are a little more stubborn, I think,” he mused as he rested his cheek against Steve’s shoulder. “Less likely to evacuate? Lot of earthquakes and fires out there. Maybe it’s second nature to up and leave when they need to? I dunno. It would suck to see our city looking like LA though.”

  
The muscles in Steve’s body were still tightly coiled and occasionally rippling with the waves of pain, but Bucky’s touch seemed to ease his upset a bit despite the lack of skin contact. He turned to cup Bucky’s face in his hands and kiss him. Bucky sighed into Steve’s mouth and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. When Steve nuzzled agaist the spot just below his ear, Bucky caught himself waiting for Steve to murmur something to him. It broke his heart that it couldn’t happen, but he just held Steve tighter and reminded himself that it didn’t matter. Steve was still here with him and they loved each other. They could work around anything else.   
  
A perfunctory tap at the airlock made Steve’s whole body jerk away. He stalked toward the exchange, but stopped himself just shy of it and turned himself away. His fist clenched at his side as if he couldn’t trust himself, and Bucky rushed forward to ward off the temptation.   
  
“Breathe,” he murmured as he put himself between Steve and the airlock.   
  
“Hey,” he called in greeting to the faceless chest past the platter of food.   
  
“Hey yourself,” Sam called back, a lightness to his voice. Steve stopped his pacing and turned at the sound, looking worried and also abashed.   
  
“You're back! God, what are you doing awake?” Bucky asked in surprise as he handed off a full platter to Steve.   
  
“Just got back,” Sam answered, sounding a little tired but still perfectly bright. “Saw the cart being brought up on my way in and figured I’d save them the trip. What are you two doing awake at stupid o’clock in the morning?”   
  
“Metabolism,” Bucky grunted, knowing it was all he needed to say.   
  
“Do we really still need to pass these through the airlock?” Sam muttered with evident concern. Bucky looked back at Steve, who squared his jaw and nodded.   
  
“Probably best for now.” Bucky took the last tray and squatted down a little so he could peer through at Sam. “He’s better, but the cramping started back up a little while ago, so Tony ordered more food up.”   
  
“Any other new developments since I left?” Sam’s eyes narrowed as Steve perched on the edge of the coffee table, keeping his distance and obviously hating every moment of it.   
  
“He can’t talk because he’s barely got any vocal cords left. Virus shredded ‘em,” Bucky explained sadly. “Bruce says they’ve got some ideas they’re working on though, so it’s just sit and wait time.”   
  
“Dude, take advantage of it,” came the soft reply. “Not like either of you have had much downtime lately. Rest up. Get your heads back on straight. Enjoy your new status.”   
  
“As what, zombie poster boys?” Sam rolled his eyes and looked like he wanted to reach through the airlock and clock Bucky upside his head.   
  
“No, dumbass,” he huffed. “Not being single anymore. Damn, I gotta draw you both a diagram? Get you a slideshow presentation?”   
  
“Oh… that.”   
  
“Yeah, that. Step away from this where you can, Bucky. You’re gonna lose it soon if you don’t. Take a few mental breaks from this shit… That’s an order.”   
  
“I’m retired. I don’t take orders, Wilson.” Sam had no idea how much Bucky wanted that, to just forget about all of this for a little while.   
  
“Man, I don’t care. Don’t make me come in there and knock your heads together.”   
  
Bucky smiled in spite of himself, and that seemed to be exactly what Sam was after. He pushed his hand through the airlock again.   
  
“Speaking of time,” he hummed and opened his palm to drop the watch into Bucky’s hand.   
  
“Thanks so much, Sam,” Bucky sighed, curling his fingers tightly around the metal timepiece. He reached back through with his left hand to take the proffered sketchbook and pouch of pencils, pens, erasers and smudgers that Steve favored.   
  
“No problem at all,” Sam answered readily. “The flight there and back was nice. Air felt good. Cleared my head up a little. Hopefully that’ll do the same for him.”   
  
“Both of these will,” he assure Sam. The other man rubbed at the space between his eyes and fought back a yawn.   
  
“Okay, there’s a bed with my name on it, buddy. You two hang in there. I’ll swing back by later on to check on ya.”   
  
“Thanks again,” Bucky nodded, impulsively reaching through to squeeze Sam’s hand gratefully. Sam squeezed back, then withdrew his hand and smacked the other side of the airlock in a farewell signal.   
  
Steve was opening up the platters of meat when Bucky turned and padded back to him. He held out the sketchpad and pouch to Steve with a soft smile.   
  
“Sam got these from the apartment so you’d have them.” Steve just looked at the pad dubiously, then plunked down onto the couch with a resigned look. Bucky shook his head and put the pad onto the chair, then put his watch on. Steve’s eyes fixed upon the watch, and the corner of his mouth quirked.   
  
“Needed it,” Bucky whispered to Steve as he sat down beside him. “Someone really special gave it to me. Told me some important things to remember when I wear it. Probably good for him to remember the general idea why he gave it to me.”   
  
Bucky looked down at his watch, running his fingers absently over the S-link band. A gift from Steve, the workhorse Tag Heuer’s finish gleamed in contrast to the metal of his prosthetic. He didn’t wear it on missions; it was far too precious to him to risk losing it or permanently damaging it. Steve gave it to him not long after he’d agreed to settle into Steve’s apartment to work through everything he’d suffered, and had been forced to do at HYDRA’s hands. He’d been unwilling to accept the watch at first, feeling the gesture was too much of… everything. Too fast. Too generous. Too… intimate. Something indefinable kicked and clawed its way back to life inside of him as he tried to imagine the piece of jewelry around his wrist, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. When Steve explained  _ why _ he absolutely wanted Bucky to have it, Bucky’s chest had both tightened and… released somehow. He’d accepted the watch with a stunned heart, and a word of thanks that barely made it past his dry lips.

  
Steve said the best revenge that anyone could gain against those that wronged them was not to just survive, but to  _ live _ . Not just to recover, but to find a way to  _ thrive _ again. That concept seemed overwhelming, and frankly unattainable, but Steve assured him that this was where the watch came into play. He’d explained to Bucky that the sturdy model clutched within his palm was a symbol to remind him that every time he was able to take even the tiniest step forward, he was throwing his middle finger up to HYDRA. Every time he chose something for himself… managed to hold onto a faint memory… to resist programming…. to overcome a potential trigger… all of that was a beautiful, undeniable act of defiance that he could be proud of and take full ownership of. 

 

That had sounded like an attitude that the old Bucky Barnes would definitely have approved of.

  
Because of the watch's intended symbolism, Steve told Bucky he didn’t have to wear it right away. He didn’t even have to wear it at all. It was entirely his choice.. It was his, and it was there when he wanted or needed a talisman to ground or bolster himself. Bucky had silently retreated to his room to think over everything Steve said, his eyes gazing at the understated white face of the watch while his flesh fingers toyed with the clasp.

  
When Bucky slept that night, it was in his own bed and nightmare-free. When he woke the next morning, the watch was still tightly within his grip. When he walked into the kitchen to join Steve for breakfast, his steps were a little less tentative. Steve hadn’t said anything about the fact that the watch was on Bucky’s wrist. He’d simply handed Bucky his morning coffee in his favored mug, along with his ritual blackberry danish, then sat down to dig into his own bowl of cereal. 

  
It was exactly what Bucky had needed back then, and it was a good moment to revisit now that Steve needed him to be the strong one.   
  
Steve’s fingers covered his, and Bucky looked up at him. Steve nodded, then pulled his hand back to communicate to Bucky.   
  
** I’m glad it worked. I’m also glad you’re here… Not just glad. Grateful. So grateful that I can’t even put it into words. **

  
“You just did,” Bucky smiled sweetly. “I’m gonna keep telling you that you’re gonna be okay every time you forget… because that’s what you did for me every time I forgot.”

  
He pressed his fingertips to Steve’s nape and pinched lightly. “You were so patient with me. You took such good care of me even when you weren’t sure you were doing the right thing.”   
  
** I had an excellent teacher when I was a little punk ** , Steve smiled, his eyes filming over with moisture.

  
“Still a punk,” Bucky grunted, leaning forward to kiss Steve, then breathe against his lips. “Just a bigger one now… One that needs to eat, so he can go take that shower with me that he denied me before.”   
  
** For safety reasons, not because he didn’t want to ** , Steve reminded him.   
  
“Yeah well for safety reasons, you’d better eat fast, because I want that shower now… and I don’t know what I’ll resort to if I don’t get it,” Bucky growled, grabbing Steve’s hand and sucking one of his fingers into the warmth of his mouth. He jerked it out almost immediately, feeling a little queasy, but Steve’s expression was too glossed over with want to notice. He pulled Bucky in for a deeper kiss before reluctantly pulling away.   
  
** Grab us a couple of drinks?   
**   
“Sure,” Bucky murmured and kissed Steve’s temple as his boyfriend reached for the platter to dig in. Both men studiously ignored what each tray actually contained, an act made easier by Tony’s people considerately prepping and garnishing the contents to look like anything other than the raw meat it was.   
  
Bucky returned with two beers from the fridge and noted the distaste still written across Steve’s expression. The more they did this, the easier it would likely get. Bucky just had to get Steve through another round then he could come up with some creative ways to distract Steve in the shower. His gaze thoughtful as he watched Steve shovel food into his mouth, Bucky decided a distraction was in order now more than later. He set his beer down, picked up the tray that was in front of Steve, and sat down in its place on the coffee table. He pushed one knee between Steve’s so that he could edge closer, tugging at the blond’s legs so he’d scoot forward as well. Steve watched him with curious eyes as he picked up a small chunk of meat and put it between his lips. He leaned forward and raised sultry eyes expectantly to Steve’s, then simply waited. Steve’s mouth fell open and he stared at Bucky, obviously torn between his dislike of the cuisine and his want of what Bucky was really offering. It was like luring in a wary stray, but Bucky was a sniper. If he had anything in abundance, it was patience and a gift for stillness.   
  
So he waited while Steve raised his hands two or three times to say something, then aborted. Bucky slowly raised one brow, letting Steve know that he could sit here for as long as it took. Steve finally leaned in though, the heat behind Bucky’s stare apparently too much for him to resist. Their lips met. A soft sigh escaped past Steve's chewing as Bucky licked across the his closed lips.    
  
“S‘bout time, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, staying only a breath away from Steve’s mouth. “My ego was startin’ to take a hit there…”   
  
In response, Steve erased the negative space between them and pointedly nudged the tray closer while he coaxed Bucky's mouth open with his tongue.  

  
It ended up taking them a bit longer to get to the shower than they originally planned. Their little game evolved as they went, and for every few pieces that Bucky fed Steve, pieces of clothing were slowly and reverently removed. Small marks were suckled possessively onto exposed skin. Muscles were gently kneaded. The lines and grooves of bones lovingly traced.   
  
At one point, Bucky was dimly aware of the monitor clicking on, but then it shut back off almost instantly. He couldn’t possibly have cared less. Even Steve hadn’t acknowledged the interruption, and had stayed focused entirely upon Bucky. By the time they finished the food and headed for the bathroom, they were a panting, stumbling mess of urgency. Bucky fumbled for the taps to turn the water on, then went back to nipping and biting over the expanse of Steve’s chest. He was slowly lapping at one of Steve’s nipples when steam started to seep past the heavy shower door. He opened it and pushed Steve inside, pinning him to the back wall as he closed his hand around Steve’s leaking cock. Blue eyes rolled back and closed as Bucky systematically drove Steve to the brink, then pulled him back.   
  
“Fuck me, Steve,” he panted against swollen, slack lips. Those same blue eyes slitted open, suddenly filled with concern as he stared at Bucky.   
  
“Don’t look at me like I’m fragile,” Bucky groused, refusing to allow the moment to be lost. “I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me.”   
  
Steve’s eyes closed at the need in Bucky’s voice, and he looked like he was relenting, but he started signing.   
  
** Not in here. **

“C’mon, Steve, you’re so close,” Bucky whined softly, pressing his hips against Steve. The blond only pushed him back enough to have room to gesture.   
  
** Is this a one-shot deal this time?   
**   
Bucky blinked at him, but then slowly started to grin. “Doesn’t haveta be.” He nipped at Steve’s jaw. “Don’t want it to be.”   
  
** Then let’s finish up in here then go get comfortable.   
**   
His grin widening with mischief, Bucky grabbed the shampoo and pushed it at Steve.   
  
“Wash your hair, punk,” he beamed, reaching between them and wrapping his right hand back around Steve. He massaged and pulled at Steve’s cock as the blond tried to accomplish the otherwise simple task of washing his short locks. Bucky picked up his pace once Steve was ready to rinse, and he was treated to the gorgeous sight of Steve holding onto the sides of the shower for dear life as his release mixed with the suds cascading over his taut muscles. Bucky held him tightly as he slowly regained his wits about him.   
  
When Steve reached for his cock, Bucky slapped his hand away.   
  
“Nope,” he snipped playfully as he handed Steve the shampoo again and put his back to his boyfriend. “I’m not coming until you’re inside me.”   
  
He heard a soft snort behind him, but then soapy fingers were scraping over Bucky’s scalp. Steve had washed his hair once before, but there hadn’t been anything remotely like foreplay involved. Bucky had been too shell-shocked to do it himself after one of their first joint missions last year. The trigger had been bad enough that Bucky had fallen into a fetal position, leaving Steve to fend off eleven HYDRA agents by himself and then carry Bucky out over his shoulder.    
  
Bucky much preferred this current experience as a memory to hang onto.   
  
Steve was half hard again as he pressed against Bucky’s back, working the shampoo through the dark, tangled tresses. He paid a lot of attention to Bucky’s temples and the area just above his nape, obviously remembering how Bucky used to lay on the floor of their apartment on hot nights and massage those spots himself as he tried to relax. Observant almost to a fault, Steve didn’t realize that Bucky’s mind was always on Steve when he did that. He was trying to relieve the tension of wanting what he thought he couldn’t have, but now the fingers caressing those spots weren’t his, and he absolutely could have the man he loved. It was a dizzying sensation, one that blissed him out so entirely that he barely registered Steve turning him to rinse the suds away.   
  
They didn’t bother drying off. Steve started to, but Bucky impatiently shoved him into the bedroom. He climbed onto all fours atop the comforter, and threw a come-hither look over his shoulder at Steve. His partner’s eyes clouded for a split-second, but then Steve grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his back.   
  
** Want to see you . **   
  
Bucky shrugged, too wound up to care about positions. He just needed Steve inside. He wanted Steve to take control in one place where he still could. Steve needed to release some serious frustrations, and not only could Bucky take it, he would relish it. Steve had no trouble following orders and deferring to those he respected, but he was also damn good at stepping up to a dominant role when he felt it needed to happen, and this was one of those times whether he realized it or not.   
  
He could thank Bucky for it later. Repeatedly, in fact.   
  
Steve gave Bucky a knowing look as he pulled the drawer of the nightstand open. He rolled his eyes at Bucky and held up the bottle of lubricant like he knew it would be there. It was Tony’s playground; of course it would be there. It was the size of a can of cooking spray and would have had them both laughing if they weren’t wound so tight. Steve was terribly nervous, and Bucky wasn’t sure that it was entirely performance anxiety. This was about giving Steve a sense of control though, so he didn’t want to call attention to it. Instead, he let his head fall back against the bank of pillows and held his arms out to Steve, and the beautiful blond went into them readily.    
  
Plying Bucky with fervent kisses, Steve lavished him with the kind of attention he’d always dreamed of. Before, it had always been Bucky doting upon the pretty girls he charmed into bed and basically doing all the work. Now he was just gonna lay back and see what stars Steve could find for him.    
  
Steve didn’t disappoint in the slightest. He didn’t find Bucky’s prostate with his fingers, but he made up for that by taking his time and pulling Bucky apart. The minute Bucky whined too impatiently, Steve would bite his inner thigh in a firm warning. Or he would climb back up Bucky’s body to silence the pleading noises with his mouth, seeking to busy Bucky’s tongue with his own. The times his mouth got too close to Bucky’s erection, Bucky would wave him away, giving the same excuse of being too close and refusing to come without Steve buried inside him. Steve didn’t push the issue, and by the time he slid home, Bucky was nearly sobbing with relief.    
  
He held on as long as he could, but with Steve’s girth, he didn’t need to do much to stimulate Bucky’s prostate. The perpetual drag over the gland had his brain going fuzzy in the best ways and he was hovering right at the edge. When Steve’s eyes went glassy then closed, Bucky called out to him. The way that Steve’s eyes instantly opened and focused upon him with such determination and intensity stopped Bucky’s lungs inside his chest. For a moment, he truly couldn’t breathe. To have someone look at him that way... to feel Steve over him and inside him, all barely-contained power... to so clearly be everything to this man… it was more than Bucky could bear and it sent him spiraling into blinding waves that blocked everything out except the feel of Steve.   
  
He must have followed right behind, because when Bucky’s sight and hearing came back to him, Steve was breathing hard and draped over Bucky’s body. His blond hair was matted to his forehead, his crown tucked under Bucky’s chin. He hadn’t even slipped free of Bucky yet, his cock still twitching sporadically inside Bucky’s tight walls. He didn’t feel pinned down by Steve’s weight. Not trapped, only loved. That was a nice change.   
  
** S-H-O-W-E-R? **   
  
Steve spelled it out in Bucky’s sight line, but Bucky didn’t think he could even move enough air from his lungs to respond verbally.   
  
**L-A-T-E-R** , he spelled back.    
  
** Y-O-U O-K?   
**   
Bucky smiled at Steve’s concern. He had literally pounded Bucky senseless there at the end, but the soreness from it was firing off all the right endorphins in his blissed out brain. There was no way Steve wasn’t feeling the same given his deadweight across Bucky’s body.   
  
** P-E-R-F-E-C-T.   
**   
Steve seemed relieved by that, and he definitely looked really okay with not moving from his comfortable spot. Bucky wanted to wrap his arms around Steve, but muscle function was nowhere near being back online. He opted for kissing the top of Steve’s head instead, and received one just above his nipple in return.   
  
As the world slowly faded away, Bucky felt Steve’s fingers press against his skin, then a gentle pinch. He just managed to pinch his lover back before sleep settled over him like a thick, warm blanket.


	6. “And the hits just keep on coming.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a chance to speak again. Bucky gets more of a shock than he can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read [At His Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1830373) yet, I strongly recommend that you do first. It's not too long, and it is referenced in a scene between Tony, Steve and Bruce. The joke will mostly fly over your head if you don't... and besides, it's Bucky being protective and coming back to Steve after being the Winter Soldier in this AU. How could ya not wanna read THAT?? ;)
> 
> I've been getting a lot of sweet, encouraging notes about this story over on tumblr, so thank you for that! MWAH
> 
> Also, thanks again to Shaish for previewing bits of this chapter and giving me much-appreciated feedback!

Sunlight.  
  
A lot of fucking sunlight.   
  
“Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner is requesting your presence in the living room, along with Bucky.”   
  
There was a muffled grunt to his side, but Steve was the only one that sat up. He felt a little hung over from fatigue and anxiety, even though his body shouldn’t actually be feeling fatigue at all after sleeping for six hours.   
  
**Thank you, Jarvis.** He signed and rolled his neck. The stretch felt good.   
  
Looking over his shoulder, he considered letting Bucky sleep, but he knew damn well that it would cause a colossal argument. Also, Bucky pouting over feeling left out would be the end of him today. He could ignore a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them. Bucky out of sorts felt like his own soul was withering away. He didn’t expect Bucky to be a ray of sunshine 24/7,  but from day one, Bucky’s infectious grin had been Steve’s true north. These days, a gentle, upward quirk of the brunet’s lips served that purpose just fine, but there was nothing more amazing than a robust laugh or dusky giggle from Bucky.   
  
Some things were almost as amazing though...   
  
He reached back and pulled the sheet from Bucky’s body. Steve might still be half asleep, but it didn’t stop him from fully admiring the view stretched out before him. The very robust, very naked expanse of skin that was Bucky’s back begged to be licked and stroked and nibbled, but it was the generous curve of Bucky’s ass that had Steve fighting with himself. His boyfriend had ass for days. Steve would know; he’d drawn that glorious behind on the sly so many times he barely had to think about it anymore. The pencil practically moved of its own accord.   
  
The crack of his moistened palm against Bucky’s ass had Steve wanting to crawl across the mattress to devour his lover, but he stayed put. Bucky’s body jolted and he flipped over, the brunet’s hand holding his right ass cheek as he gaped at Steve.   
  
“T’fuck,” he slurred, his voice pitched high with surprise.   
  
Steve just grinned. Bucky’s expression pinched up and he looked down at his own hand in disbelief.   
  
“Did you… Did you actually _lick_ your hand first?”   
  
Steve’s grin went supernova as he wiggled his splayed fingers at Bucky before signing.   
  
**Disgusting, isn’t it?**

  
The tiny whine of servo motors was the only warning he got before a pillow slammed into the side of his head. Without his vocal cords being able to properly vibrate, Steve’s laughter came out as a deep, rhythmic popping sound. It annoyed him, but not enough to erase the sheer delight at seeing his hand print pinking up his lover’s skin. Not enough to really hurt. Just enough to sting a little, but not enough to flag the erection that showed itself when Bucky rolled over.   
  
“Asshole,” Bucky muttered his direction, flopping back down onto his stomach.

  
Steve leaned over and tugged the skin of Bucky’s shoulder with his teeth. Just enough tension to leave a faint mark. Bucky grunted at him again, determined to ignore Steve’s efforts to rouse him from his comfortable spot. Steve moved his mouth to the back of Bucky’s neck and again tugged, then suckled. Bucky’s ass jerked in response, and he groaned loudly.   
  
“Fuckin’ markin’ me like a dog now, Stevie…?” Bucky rolled over slowly. His eyes were practically black, what Steve could see of them beneath drooping lids and sooty lashes. His cock was still full against his stomach. He licked at his bottom lip as Steve leaned in, anticipating the kiss.   
  
Steve was nearly there when Jarvis’ voice hit them like a bucket of ice water.   
  
“Captain Rogers, breakfast has been delivered. It is suggested that you eat it immediately to take full advantage of its nutritional value while it is still at its ideal temperature.”   
  
Steve just smiled ruefully at Bucky, who closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.   
  
“We got it from here, Jarvis,” Bucky called, frustration bleeding from his words. “Thanks,” he added with a huff.   
  
“You are welcome, Bucky.”   
  
Steve brushed a tender kiss over Bucky’s lips, then tapped him to get him to open his eyes. Bucky whimpered pitifully, but squinted up at him.   
  
**We needed to get up anyway.  
**   
“I _was_ up,” Bucky complained, “not now though…”   
  
**Ha** , Steve mouthed at him and climbed off the bed.   
  
He wished he could sit on Bucky and tickle him until he was flushed, sweaty and screaming into his pillow. He could get away with that pre-serum, climb over the sleeping young man, sit on his ass, and attack his ribs ruthlessly. Bucky would never attempt to roll him off for fear of accidentally hurting him, so he’d just dig his teeth into his pillow and writhe beneath Steve. He’d finally get his reprieve when Steve felt himself starting to become aroused, then he’d hop off and go make them breakfast. Bucky never noticed because he’d be too consumed with catching his breath. About ten minutes later, Bucky would trudge into their kitchen and all would be right with the world.   
  
It was only now that Steve realized why Bucky would always smell strongly of soap when he hadn’t properly bathed yet. The epiphany had him turning around to straddle Bucky’s hips and pull him into a searing kiss. Bucky’s hair was as wild as his eyes when he pulled back to look at Steve.   
  
“Hello…?”   
  
**Tell me** , Steve signed rapidly, his chest aching as he tried to catch his breath.   
  
**The mornings when you wouldn’t wake up right away...Tell me why you always smelled like soap after I would tickle you awake, because you always ate breakfast before you’d take your bath. God, Bucky, please tell me you remember it.  
**   
The blue seemed to drain from Bucky’s eyes again as his cock twitched hard against Steve’s. He dug his fingers into Steve’s hips, but quickly moved them to grip Steve’s ass. His expression was almost dazed at first, and then he gazed up at Steve like he was completely enraptured.   
  
“I remember it,” he whispered. “I coulda thrown you off every time, Stevie… but it was worth nearly losing my mind just to have your hands on me like that. Smelled like soap because I didn’t want you smelling anything else. Sometimes it’d feel like you were getting hard against my ass. Used to wish I could just flip over and pull you down to me-”   
  
Steve cut him off with a breathless, almost sobbing kiss. He straightened back up just enough to sign.   
  
**I did, Bucky. I did. That’s always when I would get up to go make breakfast for us, because I didn’t want you to know.**   
  
Bucky groaned softly and pulled Steve back down. His kisses were gentle, but Steve still felt the underlying hunger in them.   
  
“Let’s get you fed, baby,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s mouth. “See what Bruce wants… then back here…?”   
  
Steve nodded enthusiastically. Sadly, Bucky wasn’t ticklish anymore, but Steve definitely liked the thought of being able to reclaim that spot and caress every inch of Bucky with his fingertips and his mouth.   
  
They dressed in the comfortable sweats and shirts Tony provided for them. Steve was a bit surprised not to find any logos on them, but even if they had, he would have been fine with it just to have something clean to wear. They fit perfectly. That was the thing about Tony though; he missed nothing and his attention to detail was beyond even his father’s.   
  
While Steve sat down to eat, Bucky folded up their uniforms and left them in the airlock. Steve’s stealth suit was a bit more challenging with its kevlar and steel mesh inserts, but he managed. Steve’s eyes followed him as he went to the kitchen to make coffee. By the time he brought in two steaming cups to the table and began dousing his own with enough sugar to make Willy Wonka wince, Steve had forced down all but one piece of the raw beef on his platter. Bucky turned his nose up at his own, but took a few pieces as a show of solidarity. He only felt out of sorts when Steve did, but he felt bad that Steve had to eat something he obviously hated.   
  
He reached for the comm and pinged the lab.   
  
Tony’s face appeared first, and he immediately grinned. “Nice hair, Anastasia. Did you two even bother to sleep?”   
  
“Like babies,” Bucky smiled, not willing to bite. “Bruce wanted to talk to us?”   
  
“He does, but he stepped out for a second. Until he gets back, I may have a way for Steve to talk without signing.”   
  
Steve sat up straighter, his attention fully upon Tony as he finished chewing what he’d just stuffed into his mouth.   
  
**Go on.  
**   
“Jarvis, translation screen.” Tony’s eyes flicked to the display, then clapped his hands once. “Okay… So it’s something we’ve been testing out for people whose speech is impaired due to hearing loss. So far it’s worked for eighty-two percent of those that have tried it. It’s a neural interface, so it would mean surgery, but it’s minimally invasive. Few hours to get it picking up and then calibration. I’d disable the tech that would clarify sound to the brain since you won’t need it, so it would just be the outgoing audio. No one would need to translate for you because it’ll speak for you.”   
  
Steve turned widened eyes to Bucky, whose blue-greys were just as big.   
  
“It would say whatever he’s thinking?”   
  
“With some calibration, yes. It’s not perfect. It’s still in beta test phase, but he’s amongst friends. The occasional equivalent of an autocorrect boo boo shouldn’t be too bad of a trade off, right Cap?”   
  
Steve exchanged another look with Bucky before signing.   
  
**Will my body even accept an implant?**   
  
“Well there’s the rub, good Horatio. Even us non-enhanced peasants can reject implants so short answer is we don’t know. There are suppressant medications to keep bodies from rejecting transplants and implants, but those likely wouldn’t work on you. If your body rejects it, it’s possible I could try to get it to pick up through your skin, but the transmissions wouldn’t be as reliable. You’d have more typos so to speak. More misfires, but ya know, what’s a little embarrassment amongst friends, right?”   
**  
I’ll try it.   
**   
“Don’t you wanna think about it, Steve?” Bucky was in his usual protective mode, but Steve was willing to try anything to feel less bogged down by not being able to communicate without his hands.   
  
**I’ll try it** , he repeated.   
  
“Groovy,” Tony piped up, snapping his fingers rapidly. “Got some setup to do in the med bay, and then we’ll get this show on the road.”   
  
“Can you give us an idea of what Bruce wanted?” Bucky asked before Tony could close the connection.   
  
“Uh, generally he’s working on a sort of booster shot therapy for Capsicle to help fight off the effects of the virus. He thinks if we can get far enough ahead of it for long enough, Cap’s body will take over from there and possibly wipe it out of his system.”   
  
Tony was spouting out the words, but was apparently already distracted by other tasks by the way his voice was dropping to a mumble.   
  
“There’s particulars… and details… and biology shit that he’ll need to- Oh, gotta go, lovebirds! Bruce’ll interrupt your next round of sexcapades when he gets back!”

  
“Hey, can you send someone for our uniforms?” Bucky asked, again keeping Tony from signing off. He stared at the vidcam for a second, his nose wrinkling.   
  
“Is there hazmat involved?”   
  
“What, you mean like zombie blood,” Bucky smirked. “Definitely.”   
  
“Noooo, I meant like Old Faithful Geyser hazmat, because that’s just squicky.”   
  
Steve’s head fell back against the couch with his cheeks aflame, but Bucky was feeling more than a little feisty from being interrupted.   
  
“Super soldier spunk smells just like any other, Junior,” he beamed. “Can’t imagine it’s nothing they haven’t dealt with before, with you as their boss.”   
  
Steve’s fingers ran over his face as he winced. He quickly signed for Jarvis to translate to Tony, because otherwise it would all escalate. Bucky’s chain had been yanked just enough that he wouldn’t back down now, and neither would Tony.   
  
**There’s nothing on the suits. For godsakes, that’s just disgusting, Tony. Stop it.**

  
“Touchy touchy,” Tony warned, but Bucky cut him off.   
  
“Only with Steve, sorry.”   
  
Steve pulled the comm from Bucky’s hands and put his hand to Bucky’s chest to keep him from saying more. He signed one last bit to shut the conversation down.   
  
**Suits. Please. Goodbye.**   
  
Steve deactivated the link, tossed the comm onto the coffee table, then gave Bucky a stern look. His eyebrows raised indignantly.   
  
“What?”   
  
**Don’t encourage him, Buck. He gets off on it way too much.**   
  
“Well, maybe I do too,” Bucky grinned with a wink. “C’mon, it’s kinda fun getting his goat a little, Stevie.”   
  
Steve just gave Bucky a calculated stare, making the other man almost fidget. The twitch was subtle, but Steve’s eyes picked it up. He pushed Bucky against the back of the couch and straddled his lap again.

  
 **If arguing with Tony turns you on that easily, then I need to step up my game.**   
  
“Oh, you have game now,” Bucky chuckled, his eyes becoming hooded with want as he pressed his fingers into Steve’s thighs.   
  
**I do have game, yes.**   
  
“When exactly did you get game, Rogers?”   
  
Steve’s eyes scanned the wall beyond the couch as if considering Bucky’s question.   
  
**Just now?**   
  
“Oh, okay,” Bucky grinned as Steve trailed fingers down his sides. “I’m your captive audience then, punk. Show me what you got.”   
  
There was just a hint of a coy smile upon Steve’s lips, but it turned mildly predatory as his fingertips grazed over the tight fabric of Bucky’s shirt. He reached the drawstring on Bucky’s sweats, and held it between his thumb and forefinger. His thick lashes flicking upward as he shifted his eyes to Bucky’s. He watched Bucky’s blue-greys widen a little at a time as he pulled the bow from the drawstring. When the knot gave with a soft pop, Bucky’s hand fisted into Steve’s shirt and pulled him down roughly for their lips to collide.   
  


“Uh… hey guys..?”  
  
Both men froze as Bruce’s voice called out sheepishly over the comm line. Steve rested his forehead to Bucky’s, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. Bucky winked back and rolled his head to look over at the monitor.   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Sorry, Tony said you were eating breakfast so I thought it’d be safe to open the line.”   
  
“Did he?” Bucky murmured, shooting a sidelong look at Steve.   
  
“Yeah, he did,” Bruce muttered with a sidelong look of his own. “Might want to uh… keep it to the bedroom? We can uh… have Jarvis only interrupt if there’s an emergency.”   
  
“But we’re so comfortable here,” Bucky groused teasingly, and Bruce laughed despite his face going crimson. Tony’s chair rolled into frame.   
  
“Fair warning, I’m recording the next round you have in the front room. Just sayin’.”   
  
Bruce shoved his chair back out of frame with his foot, but Tony’s voice still picked up off screen.   
  
“What? Do you know how much money I’d make off those two doin’ the nasty?! I’m a businessman, and a damn savvy one at that. I will sell that shit like Colonel Sander’s secret recipe and sink the money into fixing all the shit you guys break around here-”   
  
“You two think you’re okay to venture out of that room?” Bruce asked, ignoring Tony in the background. “We can do Steve’s implant in about thirty, and Sam was in here earlier. He wanted to meet you down in med bay.”   
  
Steve felt concern for Sam’s well-being twisting in his gut, but Bucky didn’t give him time to voice his concerns.   
  
“Steve just ate, so it should be fine. We’ll be down there.”   
  
“Okay, see you down there then.”   
  
Bruce killed the line and Steve turned darkened eyes upon Bucky, who just waved him off.   
  
“You’ll be fine, Steve. Like I said, ya just ate and seeing as how you were just getting me all worked up before we were interrupted… again… you’re not cramping. I don’t feel anything like that from ya. It’ll be fine.”   
  
He eyed Steve curiously, and with a bit of his own concern. “You sure you wanna do this implant thing, Stevie?”   
  
**Yes. I hate feeling impaired again. I know it could be worse, and I know it might just be temporary, but I hate it, Buck.**

  
“Okay, if you’re sure you wanna try this,” Bucky sighed. “I get that it brings up shit you’d rather not revisit.”   
  
Steve gave a brief nod, relieved that Bucky wasn’t going to try to talk him out of it. If Stark could give him back at least this, Steve would be grateful. Hopefully Bruce’s boosters would help his body recuperate enough to get the ability to speak back.   
  
They pulled themselves together then headed down to the med bay, a floor they were unfortunately all-too-familiar with, particularly Bucky. Sam arrived a few minutes later, Jarvis having alerted him to their arrival. Steve shifted uncomfortably upon his feet, feeling horrible about the danger he’d been. Sam was having none of it. He clapped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.   
  
“Dude, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m more scared of that waitress where we stop for coffee than you. Bucky here, on the other hand…? He still scares the shit outta me.”   
  
“Good,” Bucky grunted his direction. Steve actually smiled at that because he could tell Bucky was starting to form his own friendship with Sam and, while he wished it was over better circumstances, he really was happy to see Bucky opening up to someone else.   
  
“So, you wanna hit the gym and show me a few of those crazy moves you got while Steve’s in there?” Sam’s eyes met Steve’s as Bucky’s expression turned twitchy.   
  
“Uh, no. Wanna be here for Steve,” he answered slowly.   
  
“Yeah, thought you’d say that,” Sam retorted knowingly, “but it’s a sterile environment in there, so you can’t be in there. Kinda delicate. Don’t need you in there getting all antsy, and you definitely don’t need to be out here sitting for hours worrying. We all know how that went last time.”   
  
“Not my fault Coulson snuck up on me,” Bucky muttered defensively.   
  
“Uh huh,” Sam nodded, crossing his arms. “Your fault for getting yourself so wound up and frazzled that you didn’t hear him. Not like he’s a ninja or anything.”   
  
Bucky still seemed unwilling to leave Steve, so Sam gestured toward the hallway.   
  
“C’mon, man. I’m sure you could stand to let off a little steam with what you two went through. Gym’ll do you some good, and I might actually learn some tricks to keep up with you crazy bastards next time shit gets heavy.”   
  
**It’s okay, Bucky. Go ahead. I’ll be just fine. Jarvis will tell you if anything’s wrong.**

  
“Steve-”   
  
Steve cut him off with a wam palm placed to his chest. He held up a finger to Bucky and smiled, silently telling him that he wasn’t going to win this one. Bucky huffed out a defeated breath as Steve pressed four fingers to his nape. He hadn’t even pinched yet before Bucky was nodding and pulling him in for a desperate kiss.   
  
“You take care of him,” he warned Bruce and Tony, letting the intercom speaker carry his words through the observation glass. Both nodded, waving Steve in. Bucky stepped back from Steve, hanging onto his fingertips until the last possible moment. When he let go, Sam dropped a comforting hand to his shoulder, squeezing gently.   
  
Steve walked into the lab and immediately tensed, his eyes dilating as he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. Bucky was already moving forward as a hiss that sounded more uncertain than anything rolled from Steve’s mouth.   
  
“Stevie…?”   
  
Bucky hadn’t reached the door when an unknown nurse stepped up behind Steve and pressed an auto-syringe against his neck. Steve’s arm shot out and knocked him aside before he staggered and fell to the floor.   
  
“Steve! Tony open up! Banner! Let me in there!”   
  
Sam was next to him, trying to talk over his frantic yelling as Bucky pounded the door with his metal fist.   
  
“Bucky, listen to me! It was a precaution we felt was necessary this time! It’s just anesthetic, okay? He’s fine! We didn’t want to take the chance that he might react violently again, so we were ready with that. I promise you, he’s fine. Just sleeping.”   
  
“Sam, please... just… get me in there,” Bucky pleaded, pressing his forehead to the window in the door. Beyond it, Bruce and Tony were helping to lift Steve onto a rolling gurney. There was no way he could break through a door with Tony’s craftsmanship behind it.   
  
“You go in there, it’s just gonna prolong the procedure,” Sam reasoned with softened words. “He’s out and he’s in no danger, okay? Just let them do their thing, Bucky.”   
  
“I don’t understand though… He was talking to them just fine… He wasn’t being aggressive, Sam. He was startled.”   
  
“Bruce thinks unfamiliar sights and smells are setting off fear responses in him,” was Sam’s patient explanation. “You had one too, before you remembered who I was… You remember any of that? You did it with the airport guard too. Good chance you would have done the same thing if you walked in there, and then we’d have to tranq you both.”   
  
“So you think it was the nurse he freaked out over?” Bucky asked, still staring into the now-empty room as if Steve would reappear to reassure him somehow.   
  
“Yeah. No sight or smell recognition there. It’s good that we know that though, Bucky. Hopefully that reaction will fade as Steve’s body gets rid of this virus. Bruce is gonna administer the first round of booster shots while he’s in there. Now that we know Steve can be cool with me when he’s not hungry, I’ll swing by to give him the follow up shots.”   
  
“Sam… In case I… haven’t-” Bucky growled as his words became tangled again. It seemed like stress was the worst culprit in scrambling his speech. He took a deep breath and tried again.   
  
“Thank you…? I’m… I’m glad you’re here.” He turned to face Sam, his eyes and words earnest. “You’re a… good friend to Steve.”   
  
“Hey, I’m your friend too,” Sam corrected him. “Which is why we’re gonna go down to the gym so I can mack off some of your moves. I don’t know about those crazy air cartwheels, but there’s gotta be some other ninja shit you can teach lil ol’ normal me.”   
  
Bucky stared at Sam for a heavy moment before deflating entirely. He gestured with his hand toward the door, his shoulder sagging as he glanced back at the room where Steve had just been.   
  
“Yeah… okay.”   
  
“Good man,” Sam nodded approvingly.

 

  
____________________________

 

An unexpected heel to the chin had Bucky blinking a few stars away three hours later. They’d started out with a regular workout to get warmed up, Sam taking note of some of the more specific exercises Bucky utilized. After that, they moved to some simple hand-to-hand sparring. Bucky gave Sam ideas of where to tighten up his defenses, and where to better use his opponent’s momentum against them. Bucky was trying to stay focused, but the longer time stretched on, the more distracted he became.  
  
Until Sam landed that extremely well-placed blow.   
  
Bucky had his feet out from under him before poor Sam knew what he was about. Sam’s eyes flicked down to where Bucky’s metal digits were lined up along his throat. One sharp, downward slash and Sam’s neck would be broken. He glanced up at Bucky, whose eyes instantly blinked back to clarity.   
  
“Now that’s more like it,” Sam muttered, keeping his eyes locked on Bucky’s. “Feel like you’ve had kid gloves on for the past two hours. Can we finally get down to business now?”   
  
Bucky pressed ever-so-slightly with his hand, carefully making his point as he leaned over Sam.   
  
“I take off the kid gloves, you’ll end up in the infirmary, Wilson. Then I’d have to deal with Steve pouting and I definitely wouldn’t get laid… so… not gonna happen.” He pulled away and stood, offering his hand to help Sam back up.   
  
“He’ll be pouting anyway if he replays the feed in here and see how sloppy you’re being. C’mon, man. They would’ve had Jarvis call us back up there if Steve was in trouble. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”   
  
Bucky looked at the clock yet again and rolled his neck. Sam was right, but it didn’t mean he’d be able to clear his head as much as he really should. If the virus wasn’t an issue, he’d be less anxious about Steve, but it presented too much of an unknown for him to be able to let it go.   
  
“Alright,” he sighed, giving Sam a come-hither curl of his fingers. “Few more and then… gonna hit the showers… then eat. I’m worried about him not eating if they take too long… Don’t wanna add to it.”   
  
“Okay, you got it,” Sam nodded. “Show me something really cool this time. Something I can take back to DC with me.”   
  
“You’re leaving?” Bucky straightened, his face clouding with worry. Sam felt like a bit of safety that he and Steve both sorely needed. A voice of reason when they both felt ridiculously irrational.   
  
“Got sessions to run tomorrow, Buck. I’ll be back after though. I told you’d I’d be around, and I will.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
“You two are in good hands. You’re gonna be okay, ya know?” Sam rested his hands to his hips and relaxed his stance. He gave Bucky and appraising stare. “You’re holding it together real good for Steve, you know that, right? Takin’ care of him like you always have. I’m happy to be moral support, but you’re doing it just fine.”   
  


“I feel like… like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Not at all, Sam.”  
  
“Not like they hand out self-help pamphlets on how to survive almost becoming a zombie,” Sam cracked, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re still here though, and neither of you has gone all Silence of the Lambs on us.”   
  
“That’s just gross, Sam,” Bucky groaned miserably, “and it’s not for lack of trying.”   
  
“Bullshit,” Sam scoffed. “Steve had enough presence of mind to lock me out of the cockpit when he got shaky… and yeah, he shredded my shirt, but that was before we realized he needed to eat regularly. We’re on a learning curve, man, but it’s gonna ease up.”   
  
Bucky looked beyond Sam, his thoughts wandering. “He wants to be back out there so bad, Sam. He… wants to be… helping.”   
  
“Yeah, I know… and you wanna be watching his back. I get it.”   
  
The answer was simple, and Sam didn’t try to add to it. He did know. He knew Steve and what made Steve tick, and that was helping people. Right now all they could do was try to help themselves, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to help anyone anymore. Bucky knew this. He knew Steve knew it as well, but he also knew that didn’t make it any easier.   
  
“Sam… if I ask you something… will you be totally honest with me?”   
  
“Yeah, man. Of course.”   
  
“You’re only half right,” Bucky began hesitantly. “I wanna watch his back… but I don’t wanna be out there... I don’t wanna do any of it anymore. Not really. I just… wanna be with him… S’only reason I still do it…”   
  
He looked up at Sam with shame in his eyes. “Does that make me a really rotten person?”   
  
Sam’s head jerked back a little, his eyes narrowing.   
  
“Hell no, Bucky. Dude, you’ve been doing this off and on for over seventy years, most of it against your will. That’s not even touching the torture you endured. I’d be more shocked if you didn’t want to walk away from it. For Steve, it’s only be a few years… and don’t be so sure that he’s not tired of it too. Right before he found out you were still alive, he seemed pretty damn tired of it too.”   
  
“He’s so passionate about it though,” Bucky muttered with a shake of his head, his hand waving outward at nothing in particular.   
  
“Well… yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Having you back with him? Fighting alongside him? It gave him a second wind… but to be honest, it’s more about wiping out HYDRA than wanting to still be in the game. I don’t know that you can pass up any good chances to hand them their asses, even feeling this way… Am I wrong?”   
  
Bucky’s head dropped, his shoulders sagging again. “No. You’re not wrong. I don’t want them getting another foothold again.”   
  
“Okay… well maybe you two should focus on beating this virus, then keep hacking away at HYDRA until you feel like you can safely hand the fight off to us little folk.”   
  
Bucky rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.   
  
“You both want the same thing. You wanna live the life that was taken from you. Nothin’ wrong with that. It’ll happen, but first you gotta beat this. After everything that’s happened, you’ve earned the right to sit this one out for now. Do what I told you. Take advantage of it. Once you’re better, you’re both going be going full tilt again. You know I’m right, ‘cause you can’t still any better than he can. Not for long anyway. Can’t even do it now… in here all twitchy an’ denying me some decent training-”   
  
“Yeah okay,” Bucky laughed quietly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get it.”   
  
“Do you? You got it enough to convince Captain Stubborn Ass upstairs?”   
  
Bucky laughed harder at that, leaning over to rest his hands to his knees. He stretched the muscles of his back and blew out a sharp breath before standing back up.   
  
“Yeah. I think so.” He held out his hand and Sam readily shook it. “Thanks, Sam.”   
  
“Sure thing,” Sam shrugged. “Now teach me something!”

____________________________  
  
  
“Alright, Cap. Wakey wakey!”  
  
Bruce and Tony watched patiently as Steve slowly roused, having cleared the other medical personnel from the room. They’d restrained him, but there was no way to know if the virus had affected his strength. Some of the test subjects they’d trapped and observed were slowly gaining strength and agility, which was worrisome, to put it mildly. Tony had his gauntlet at the ready, just in case, and Bruce was armed with another auto-syringe.  
  
Steve’s eyes fluttered, then cracked open. His mottled eyes slid silently about the room, then he erupted, his body jerking hard and wildly against his restraints. A mechanized version of his voice instantly filled the room as Tony and Bruce tried to calm him verbally before trying anything drastic.  
  
“Off! These- off!”  
  
Hearing his own voice startled Steve into stillness.  
  
“What huck”  
  
Tony blinked at Bruce in awe. “Did Cap just swear at us?”  
  
“Tony, just start calibrating.” Bruce moved into Steve’s view. “Hey, Steve… Remember where you are? What we’re doing here?”  
  
“No… wait… hungry… No-” The mechanized version of his voice continued to throw Steve off. “What the huck?”  
  
“Swear again,” Tony instructed, watching his screen as he typed rapidly.  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
“There we go,” Tony smiled, continuing to type. “Didn’t know ya had it in ya, Cap. I feel a single tear coming on.”  
  
“Ash pole.”  
  
“Oooh,” Tony laughed as he corrected the feed to Steve’s audio output. “You’re gonna want to get into the habit of touching your prompt button on and off like you would your comm when it’s on manual, but not yet. We need to calibrate you first.”  
  
Bruce tapped his ear. “Remember, now? Remember us?”  
  
Steve’s eyes slid slowly over to Tony, and the voice sounded again. “He almost duked my balls.”  
  
“I warned you to cover them!” Tony stopped typing and stared at Steve, who looked shocked that those words came out so bluntly. “You’re like this whole other person inside your head, aren’t you? You really do have a filter from the forties still locked on.”  
  
“Donut like being a prick.” Steve’s eyes narrowed, and he looked frustrated. He rattled his wrists against his restraints and looked at Bruce helplessly.  
  
“You in control enough for me to unlock those?” he asked carefully. “You mentioned being hungry. We’ve got some beef here that you can eat while we calibrate this.”  
  
Steve looked a bit nervous, but he finally nodded. His eyes still looked a little glassy, so it seemed like a gamble safe enough to take. Bruce stepped forward and unlocked one cuff. He glanced up at Steve, but the super soldier made no move toward him, so he unlocked the other. Steve remained reclined against the high-backed chair. He closed his eyes as he signed.  
  
 **That’s not what I meant to say.**  
  
He physically startled as the voice came out anyway, repeating what he signed.  
  
“Fuck. That’s wired.” **WIERD** , he corrected with his hands. Tony kept typing in what was essentially autocorrects, then turned toward Steve.  
  
“Jarvis… calibration screen.”  
  
A holographic screen appeared with a blank area. Tony motioned to it.  
  
“Okay… gonna pop up a lot of pictures of things that are mistaken the most so we can teach the machine how to read your brain’s speech impulses. All you have to do is think the word for what you see or read up there, and I’ll calibrate it over here. First round is gonna be our sweet little dysfunctional family, so full names…. Ready?”  
  
Steve still looked groggy, but he nodded. The first picture popped up and Steve frowned. A low hiss escaped him as the voice sounded again.  
  
“I… don’t… know… Familiar.”  
  
“That’s Clint Barton, Steve,” Bruce supplied, frowning at Steve’s confusion. “We’ll pop the face up again in a minute so you can at least mimic, okay?”  
  
Steve nodded again, not looking happy about not remembering. Tony hit a few buttons.  
  
“Okay… we’ll start with something easier.”  
  
“Truce Banner.” Steve’s face skewed up, Tony held up a hand. “It goes for the most logical word based upon… ugh, I’m not gonna try to explain the how. It just tends to fuck up phonetically, okay? That’s why we’re doing this.”  
  
The annoyance was plain on Steve’s face, but he did take the plate Bruce handed him. He gave the plate a dubious glare but took a bite.  
  
“Wish bucket was here to make this sexy-” Steve nearly dropped the plate and shot an accusing look Tony’s way. Bruce patted Steve’s shoulder even though he was now fully red across his cheeks and neck. Tony looked like he desperately wanted to cry as his chest shook with silent laughter.  
  
“Just… Jesus, just lookit the screen, Cap,” he gasped. Steve didn’t look at all impressed.  
  
“Ham hill son.”  
  
“Try again,” Tony instructed.  
  
“Sam Wilson.”  
  
Tony nodded his approval, blissfully silent. Another picture popped up and Steve couldn’t help the soft smile.  
  
“Beautiful.”  
  
Tony snorted, his head leaning forward as he wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s how he’ll want to be introduced by you, Romeo. Try again.”  
  
“Bucket Barns.”  
  
“Again.”  
  
“Bucky Barnes.”  
  
“One more time, but full name.”  
  
“Famous blue cannon barns.” Steve’s snarling hiss made Bruce take a cautious step backward.  
  
“God help me,” Tony hiccuped, “but that one’s gonna stick.” He was completely unconcerned by Steve’s growing annoyance. “Calm down and eat, woobie boy. The names are the worst. Try Juliet’s name again.”  
  
“James Buccaneer Barnes _fuck wing shell!”_  
  
“And the hits just keep on coming,” Tony nearly sobbed with laughter under his breath before clearing his throat. “One more time, Cap.”  
  
“James Buchanan Barnes.”  
  
“Add on that last phrase again,” Tony grinned.  
  
“Fucking hell?”  
  
“That’d be the one.”  
  
This time Steve’s eyes narrowed from the screen and then flicked sideways as Tony’s ID picture popped up.  
  
“Obnoxious asshole.”  
  
This time Bruce snorted loudly as Steve just gave Tony a purely innocent look. Tony at least took it in good humor. “Hey, I told you when I fired into it’s ear sac that the missles were a new payload. Not my fault that it landed on you and you & super goth had to go be decontaminated.”  
  
“Along with my apartment,” Steve’s faux voice answered. He at least looked pleased that it translated him accurately. Tony just shrugged.  
  
“You’re the one that ran back to him without checking in for your results first. Sorry but shit happens.”  
  
Steve hissed softly, but stuffed another slice of beef into his mouth.  
  
“Horny Stork.”  
  
Bruce nearly doubled over laughing.  
____________________________  
  


Bucky frowned down at his Tag now, concerned that the procedure was taking longer than it should. Bucky would be in there with Steve now if he could. Five people total were in there with Steve, only two of which Bucky personally knew.   
  
Sam had a decent streak of unpredictability in his style of combat, and Bucky had actually enjoyed picking apart areas where he could refine Sam’s skills. It had distracted at least part of his brain. The part it hadn’t distracted was the reason for the respectable bruise Sam left on his jaw. Had it been Sam’s fist, the mark would already be disappearing, but the wily little shit had kicked out just as Bucky’s eyes had flicked to the clock on the wall again. He really should suggest taking that down. Really. Who hung clocks in areas used for combat training anyway?   
  
A loud growling broke the silence, and Bucky was glad no one else was in the room to hear his stomach. At least they knew now that Steve could eat normal foods so long as he consumed raw meat as well. Maybe Bucky could convince him to settle in tonight and eat some Thai. That was the one positive thing about being quarantined, quality time once the day’s poking and prodding was over. Thank God it was Bruce in charge of the testing, otherwise Bucky didn’t think he’d be able to stand it. He promised to keep the tests to a minimum, especially with Bucky, and that was greatly appreciated because Bucky’s nerves were stretched pretty thin at the moment.   
  
Running his hands over his shower-damp hair, Bucky’s eyes drew upward at the reflection of movement in the framed picture in front of him. The door of the lab swung open.   
  
“Honey, I’m home!”   
  
Bucky’s lashes fluttered as his heart rate picked up. Cold sweat began to form over his brow and down his back as he slowly turned. Dread settled heavily in his gut as he stared at the woman on the other side of the safety glass. That couldn’t be right. He couldn’t really be seeing this.   
  
“Bucky…? Are you okay?”   
  
Bucky closed his eyes, pressing gently against his eyelids as he counted backward from twenty. He hadn’t had a waking hallucination in months, not since Bruce had given him mental exercises to ground himself and actively remain that way throughout the day. What was triggering this one? Guilt was obvious, but was he just too tired? Were the multiple tests per day triggering him? Was his body failing him again because of the virus? It pissed him off because he’d worked so hard to overcome the random hallucinations, that this one stood to ruin his whole fucking day.   
  
“Hmmm mm. No.” Bucky shook his head slightly, trying desperately to clear the vision away.   
  
The hallucination started to walk toward him and Bucky started backpedaling. His spacial awareness was exceptional, but the episode had him so disoriented that he smacked into the edge of the table behind him and stumbled.   
  
“Bucky, what’s wrong? Where’s Steve?”   
  
“Hmmm mm,” Bucky kept repeating under his breath like a mantra. This wasn’t real. He just needed to keep telling himself that. He had to get this under control before Steve was awake.   
  
“Not real… breathe,” he whispered to himself, clapping his hand over his watch. The plates of his arm were snapping against one another in the closest they could come to imitating a spasm. The metallic clicks and high-pitched whirring of the servos threatened to take him back to the first time they’d wrestled him into the cryo tank.The noises his arm made then were identical, sounding frantic and in perfect tandem with his galloping heart until the cold stopped his pulse. Hearing his arm slowing down was the last thing he’d registered before the blessed nothingness came. It was still a sound that he couldn’t help but equate with cold so brutal that he broke ribs and teeth as his muscles spasmed. It didn’t matter that they refined the tank to smooth the process. Even after they wiped him several times, the blinding terror that would wash over him when he saw the tank never went away. It was forever written into the calcium deposits that had knitted his bones, and the dental epoxy that repaired his bite.   
  
“Hey, are you getting sick? Sit down, okay? I’m gonna call someone in here-”   
  
Bucky’s eyes snapped open. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he began shaking.   
  
“NO! You stay away from me!”   
  
“Sweetie, something’s wrong with you,” she pleaded. “Let me just get help okay? I’ll find Steve for you.”   
  
“No, you leave him alone,” he screamed. “You don’t touch him!”   
  
He was slipping. He shouldn’t be arguing with her. It. This wasn’t real. Not real. Not real. He needed to get out of the lab and back to the containment suite. His prescription sedatives were there. If he couldn’t get this under control on his own, he’d sleep it off. His sedatives even worked on Steve for about three hours at a time, so Bucky could go down for roughly twice that. He could wake up better and claim a bad muscle pull from his session with Sam. He’d worked  through these before. He could do it now. No need to worry Steve.   
  
Backing up proved easier once Bucky settled upon that plan of action. Mission directives had always been good for him; focusing his mind upon a singular task cleared everything out that didn’t need to be there. He backed out of the lab, with the woman pursuing him from a safe distance. Which was stupid. She was a hallucination. He was the one ready to claw his own skin off from terror. His ass hit the handrail inside the elevator. The doors stayed open. Bucky looked at the buttons and realized he hadn’t hit one. He lurched forward to fix that but drew up short.   
  
Ella Aubrey was in his way.


	7. “That… asshole.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has to set his own feelings aside to help Bucky. Sam makes a promise.

“Get out.”  
  
“Okay… I’ll get out if you’ll go see Bruce. Deal?”   
  
Bucky shook his head again, throwing his arm out to point toward the doors. He closed his eyes, needing to find the courage to reach for the door button.   
  
“Nothing wrong with me,” he growled. He heard Ella gasp and opened his eyes. She looked genuinely afraid of him, but he wasn’t sure why that changed until his gaze followed the flick of her eyes. He had his utility knife clutched in his hand. Bucky rarely went without it tucked away somewhere on his person because hello to the general clusterfuck that tended to be his life on any given day. Problem was, he didn’t even realize he’d pulled it, much less thought about pointing it Ella’s way. This had been one of the scarier aspects of his episodes when he’d first moved into Steve’s apartment. The times he’d drawn on Steve after being startled or triggered were more than he could count without feeling shame even now. Thank god they’d relinquished their serious weapons to Sam before coming to the tower.   
  
What was he even thinking? It didn’t matter what he pulled in a panic; she wasn’t real. This was his guilt and stress doing another number on him. Possibly even the virus. He was sinking into a hole he needed to climb out of quickly or he’d be too far gone to pull himself back on his own.   
  
“Hmmm mm. Not real.”   
  
“What’s not real?” Ella asked carefully, holding up her hands.   
  
“You. You’re not real.”   
  
“What…?” She stared hard at him, brows deeply furrowed before her eyes finally went wide. “Oh motherfucker,” she breathed, blanching with sickened disbelief. “That… asshole.”   
  
______________________________   


  
“Captain Rogers, there seems to be a problem with Bucky in the lab elevator.”   
  
Steve looked up from where he was pulling the last monitor pad from his chest. Had this been earlier in the year, he would have fallen to instant panic. Bucky had come a long way though, so Steve felt instantly concerned but not the blinding fear he used to experience.     
  
“Problem? Isn’t he with Sam, Jar vise?” Steve ignored the frantic typing beside him, other than to test the correction. “Jarvis.” Tony gave a thumbs-up.   
  
“No, Captain. Sam left for home after their training session. He intends to return after his obligations tomorrow. Bucky’s heart rate has surpassed our agreed upon alert level. He is currently wielding a utility knife and seems to be in distress about Dr. Aubrey.”   
  
“Fuck,” blurted the modulated voice, and Steve quickly tapped it off until he composed his thoughts. Now fear was in the works. Bucky no longer pulled weapons as easily as he used to, so whatever happened must be serious.   
  
“Who is Dr. Awe Bray and what did they do to Bucky?” Steve’s nose wrinkled at the off pronunciation as he slid off the chair and wobbled. He still had lingering traces of the anesthetic in his system, which made walking and pulling his t-shirt back on at the same time an interesting affair. Tony actually put a hand to his elbow as the three of them hurried down the hallway.   
  
“Ella Aubrey? She’s who you and Bucky went to LA for, Steve.” Bruce gave his explanation with obvious concern. “We should probably talk later about the memory losses you’re experiencing.”   
  
Steve had tapped his translator off as he tried to remember. He tapped back on just long enough for the speaker to sound off. “Visuals help.”   
  
Tony had his cell out in a flash, and was quickly pushing a picture into Steve’s face as they boarded the other elevator. Steve took one look at the woman in the picture and recoiled. He jerked his eyes upward from the camera, wincing at Bruce.   
  
“We couldn’t protect her.”   
  
Bruce banked a curious look at Steve, then at Tony.   
  
“You did protect her.”   
  
“She died.” Steve frowned as the device intoned with limited inflection for him. “That is not protection.”   
  
Bruce looked over at Tony with weary exasperation. “I thought you told them!”   
  
“Me?” Tony gaped back at his science bro. “Why the hell would I do it? Do I look like a grief counselor?! You’re the touchy feeling Avenger! I’m the crass, narcissistic Avenger! Besides, I thought the one-eyed wonder was going to tell them!”   
  
“Tell us what?” Steve asked, shoulders squaring back with impatience. The elevator pinged and Steve turned to exit, not bothering to wait for an answer. He had to get to Bucky before he hurt himself or someone else by accident. Steve was remembering what a roller coaster of emotions the mission had been for them as he strode down the hall. He was mentally kicking himself. Neither of them were at one-hundred percent right now and maybe the turmoil had been too much for Bucky. Maybe he should have insisted they take things slower, but Steve had been just as starved for Bucky’s touch as Bucky had been for his.   
  
Steve had just tapped his translator back on when he rounded the corner to the other elevators and was slammed into by someone running from the opposite direction. Steve latched onto their shoulders to steady them so they didn’t fall backward. He looked down to question if they were alright, and found himself looking into a pair of very familiar green eyes.   
  
Ella’s eyes.   
  
“Oh shit.” Steve yanked his hands away from her and took such an abrupt step back that he knocked Tony into Bruce.   
  
“Shit… Shit…”   
  
Tony reached up and tapped off Steve’s translator for him as Ella Aubrey threw her hands up in frustration.   
  
“For fucksakes, don’t any of you ever actually _talk_ to one another?” She dropped her hands to her hips, but then blinked at Steve as her hearing caught up with the rest of her thought process.   
  
“What’re you wearing, Steve?”   
  
Steve started shaking his head slowly as Bruce placed a calming hand to his shoulder.   
  
“Uh… a few things happened between your extraction and now, Ella. I thought Fury would have told you…?”   
  
“Apparently Nick’s not telling anyone much of anything,” Ella groused, looking between them. Steve’s eyes drifted down to her arm, and the white bandage there. Her hands were no longer bandaged, but the backs were blotchy and scabbed. She was real alright, but none of this made sense to him at all. Maybe this whole thing was a fever dream from the anesthetic and Bruce just needed to wake him up.   
  
“I tried to get in touch with him to check on my friend and my godson, but he hasn’t gotten back to me. He said Steve and Bucky would be told once they were back, but when I saw Bucky in the lab, he freaked out on me. I didn’t realize what was going on until he started saying I wasn’t real.”   
  
Steve’s lips mouthed Bucky’s name. He tapped his translator, his eyes growing hard as he glared at Ella.   
  
“Where is he?”   
  
Ella’s eyes narrowed at the small device just above Steve’s ear.   
  
“Steve, what happened? Why are you wearing that? Your eyes-”   
  
“Where is he?” Steve repeated, ignoring her questions. She shrugged helplessly, glancing back toward the other elevators.   
  
“I don’t know. He pulled a knife on me to get me out of the elevator, so I didn’t think it was a good idea to question him. I tried to get him to let me go get you, or to at least go see Bruce, but he kept saying nothing was wrong with him. He was sweating and shaking and uncoordinated so I thought he was coming down with something.”   
  
“Sir, Bucky has returned to the containment suite,” Jarvis informed them.   
  
“Go on,” Bruce told Steve quietly. “We’ll hang back. Last thing he needs is an audience if he thinks he’s having an episode.”   
  
Steve’s glare was icy as he glanced at Ella. He nodded to Bruce and pushed past her as he walked toward the elevator Bucky took. He turned back though, stalking back to grab Ella’s hand to pull her toward the elevators.   
  
“You need to come with me and explain on the way. I can’t explain to him if I don’t underhand ether.” His muscles tensed as the translator misfired, but he didn’t try to correct it.   
  
“Okay, but will you please tell me why you’re not speaking on your own,” Ella asked, a clear note of apprehension bleeding through her voice. Steve turned a withering stare on her as they waited for the elevator. He turned slightly and yanked the neck of his t-shirt down, revealing the slowly fading bite mark on the back of his shoulder. She may as well know.   
  
The color drained from Ella’s face and she swallowed hard.   
  
“Oh Steve, no… No… I… I’m sorry-”   
  
Steve ignored the sentiment, too angry to accept her condolences. He tapped his device back on.   
  
“Bucky is sick too. He infected himself when he thought he was going to lose me.”   
  
Ella’s eyes filled with tears. As they spilled over, she opened her mouth hesitantly, wiping at her eyes as she did.   
  
“Steve… did the two of you… Did you tell him?”   
  
Steve considered her question silently before deciding it was too personal for him to discuss with her while he was in this frame of mind. He straightened to his full height, intentionally using it to put more intimidating chill behind his words.   
  
“Explain yourself.” He pointedly tapped off his device and crossed his arms. Ella’s shoulders slumped. The elevator doors opened for them, and she stepped inside ahead of Steve, avoiding his glare.   
  
“Nick said you were the best two he had tactically, but neither of you can act for shit. I’m not much of one either, but the deal was that I go along with his plan and he would make sure my best friend and her son, my godson, were taken somewhere safe. I wasn’t crazy about the idea at all, but the worse things became, the less choice I felt I had. He sent me a thing for my ear… a… micro-comm. All I had to do was wear it, listen, and not tell either of you about it. Nick knows he’s still got sleeper agents in the ranks, so he randomly allows bad intel to reach them. He knew sending you two would leak out, so he sent in a handful of small teams ahead of you to just sit still until we were on our way back to the airport.”   
  
Sinking realization turned Steve’s stomach as he listened to Ella. They’d known that Fury was holding back on them, but that was nothing new. He’d thought it was just about the virus though; not about the actual execution of the mission. Still, it had been odd to have Fury deny them a chopper off the building when they’d requested it. Now he realized that Nick didn’t want anything happening at night. He wanted a clear view for whatever HYDRA cells might be shadowing them as they escorted Ella out. His insides churned as he touched above his ear.   
  
“The car that hit us. His people. That’s why you wanted to us to turn where you did. You were never supposed to make it to the airport.”   
  
“Not with you, no. They were just waiting for us to get close enough to one of the placed teams,” Ella confirmed sadly. “Steve, I’m-”   
  
He held up his hand to silence her, still not wanting to hear anything more than hard facts.   
  
“I don’t want to hear that. Just finish.”   
  
“Okay,” Ella nodded, looking properly chided. “It went just like it was supposed to from there. I led you into the hospital. The team got into position while Bucky stitched my leg. They lured a few zombies into the hallway to wait for us to come out.”   
  
“You were bitten,” Steve accused, pointing to her arm. Ella just gave him a sour look.   
  
“After going over the side of a skyscraper, Steve, biting myself wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.”   
  
“Disgusting.” Steve let the word carry its own weight, his expression flat and unchanging as he stared at Ella. She nodded her own agreement, wrapping her arms almost protectively about herself.   
  
“Steve please just hear me out. The longer I was with the two of you, the more I hated not telling you… but they would have heard and the deal would have been off. Nick said he’d tell you once you got back and that you’d understand that it needed to be done.”   
  
The elevator had opened to the containment floor as Ella spoke. Steve just shook his head at her with an angry exhale of air. He exited the elevator and headed down the hallway without speaking until he realized she was following him. He turned and stopped her.   
  
“No. You stay back until I call for you.”   
  
Ella looked like she wanted to argue, but she slowly nodded her head.   
  
“Okay.”   
  
Steve turned away from her and let himself into their suite. He kept his translator off, not wanting Bucky to hear the strange, modulated version of his voice. Bucky didn’t need anything that would further confuse him. As he turned down the hallway toward the bedroom, he silently held up his hand again to remind Ella to stay put. She did as he instructed, stopping halfway to their bedroom.   
  
Steve reached the door and opened it. He didn’t need to announce himself; Bucky’s eyes were already on him when he stepped inside. He was in the middle of the bed, buried beneath the covers with only his slightly-unfocused eyes trained upon Steve. It didn’t slip by unnoticed, the way that Bucky’s hand slowly moved beneath his pillow as his eyes tried to regain their focus.   
  
He was trying to figure out if Steve was real, and that just renewed the indignant anger Steve felt on Bucky’s behalf.   
  
“Stevie…? You okay?”   
  
**Yeah, Buck. I’m good. Thought you’d be waiting for me in the lab. You okay?**   
  
That seemed to reassure Bucky, and he quickly freed himself of the cocoon he’d made. He climbed from the bed and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve wanted to dive right into talking to Bucky, but these were always careful moments. He had to let the conversation unfold at Bucky’s pace at first; he had to get him actually talking, then he could nudge him into opening up more. He stroked Bucky’s hair and back with one hand as Steve’s other arm protectively held him close. Bucky finally pulled back to look him over. His eyes settled upon the translator above Steve’s ear, and his fingers reached out to tenderly touch the skin around it.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, and Steve smiled as he shook his head. That was always Bucky’s first question, always his first concern.  
  
 **Not at all. They took good care of me, Buck.**   
  
“You’re signing though,” Bucky frowned as he caught Steve’s hands. “Does it not work yet?”   
  
**It works. It sounds weird though. I didn’t want it to confuse you if you were half asleep.**   
  
Steve let his eyes shift to the bottle of sedatives on the nightstand. Bucky’s fingers twitched upon Steve’s waist, but his expression remained fixed.   
  
**Tell me.**   
  
“Nothin’. Sam just got a lucky hit in. Gave me headache is all. Wanted it gone by the time you were done.”

Steve tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart was breaking that Bucky felt like he had to hide what happened. He knew why; he understood Bucky’s inherent need to protect him, but he needed Bucky to start understanding that Steve worried far more when Bucky tried to hide things. This one was bad though; Bucky often tried to deflect, but he never outright lied to Steve.  
  
 **Bucky** , Steve began, wishing he could hold onto Bucky as he signed. He didn’t want to turn on the device yet. This was just too delicate of a conversation to have it misfire during a tense moment.   
  
**Please talk to me. There’s nothing you have to lie to me about anymore. I know you think you hallucinated Ella, but you didn’t. You-**   
  
He stopped as Bucky’s eyes darted away from him to sweep the room. His hands pulled away from Steve’s waist and he wrapped his fingers around his watch. Trying to ground himself. Trying to be sure that he wasn’t still stuck. Steve shook his head and pulled Bucky’s hand to rest over his heart.   
  
**Feel that…? You know that better than anything. I’m real. You’re not stuck. You’re just fine. You didn’t hallucinate Ella. She didn’t die, Bucky. Understand me? Nick Fury set us up to look like we failed the mission. She’s here and she’s alive. You aren’t losing it again, I promise.**

Bucky just stared at Steve. His eyes weren’t darting. He just seemed to not know what to do with the information Steve just gave him. His eyes moved to the nightstand to scowl at the medication there.  
  
“Dreaming,” he mumbled. Steve turned his face back so he could nip that in the bud right away.   
  
**No, Bucky. You’re awake. You haven’t even had time for those to kick in fully. You know that. Look… when you hallucinated someone before, what happened when you tried to touch them?**   
  
“Couldn’t…”   
  
**Right… You said your hand would go through them or they’d just disappear… I’m going to let you see Ella, okay Bucky? You’re going to touch her-**  
  
“No. Mmm mm.” Bucky tried to back away from him, but Steve caught him and pulled him close again. He held up one hand so Bucky could see.   
  
**W-A-I-T... T-R-U-S-T M-E. O-K?**   
  
Bucky’s eyes closed and he pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna do this, Steve.”   
  
Steve wrapped both arms around Bucky and sighed into his hair. He placed soft kisses against Bucky’s head and temple to soothe him. He just waited. There was no reason in the world to rush this. They still had roughly ten minutes or so before the sedatives started to take Bucky under, and it was better if Bucky did this willingly. Steve tried to tell him all he needed to know with each press of lips to overheated skin.   
  
Bucky took a slow, deep breath, and pulled away from Steve. He stared up at Steve for a long moment, then nodded silently. Steve cradled Bucky’s face and kissed him, rubbing his thumbs gently over Bucky’s cheeks. Steve pulled back and pressed his fingers to Bucky’s nape and pinched, but this time he also mouthed the words. Bucky closed his eyes for a second and exhaled loudly. He drew in another sharp breath, then nodded.   
  
Steve walked him to the bedroom door, and Bucky tensed further as he saw Ella standing in the hallway. Steve activated his translator. He probably should have let Bucky hear it before this, but there was no helping it now.   
  
“Bucky needs to touch you so he knows you are real.”   
  
Just as he feared, Bucky flinched at the electronic version of his voice. Steve killed the device and placed a reassuring hand to Bucky’s back. He kissed Bucky’s temple again. Ella’s eyes flared at the display, but her mouth hitched up into a hint of a smile. Wisely, she didn’t address it.   
  
“Hey, Bucky,” she murmured gently as she held out her hand. “I’m so sorry Nick didn’t tell you… I’m sorry for my part in this… I never wanted either of you hurt because of me.”   
  
Bucky’s breathing picked up as Ella stepped closer. His arm began its nervous shifting again, the plates clicking erratically. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hip, trying his best to bolster him as Ella slowly reached her hand up to Bucky’s face. He was nearly hyperventilating when her fingertips grazed his cheek. He sucked in a ragged breath and leaned into the touch until her palm fully cupped his jaw. The plates in his arm stilled and he closed his eyes.   
  
“I told you,” he whispered. “Told you I’d choose wrong.”   
  
“You didn’t,” Ella corrected, her tone as gentle as she could make it. “You did what you were supposed to do. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did, not you.”   
  
Steve frowned at the exchange, but didn’t interrupt. Now wasn’t the time.

“Failed you,” Bucky muttered, his brows knitting.  
  
“You didn’t fail me, Bucky,” Ella responded earnestly. “You’re my hero. Both of you are. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and Steve.”   
  
Steve winced at Ella’s choice of words. He knew Bucky well enough to know what the sudden tension in his muscles meant. Steve didn’t blame Ella for his getting bitten, but Bucky would, at least initially. He’d hold her just as accountable as Nick in this mess, and the only thing that would ease that anger would be time and patience, at least where Ella was concerned. Bucky might never forgive Nick for his part, but Steve didn’t really care about that.   
  
He felt Bucky’s body coil, and heard the tell-tale whine of servos just before Bucky knocked Ella’s hand from his face. Steve immediately put himself between Bucky and Ella, but Bucky’s right arm shot out past Steve’s bicep to point accusingly at her.   
  
“You… selfish…” he sputtered, the virus affecting his speech again. “Look at him! Look! His eyes…! His voice… it’s fucking gone! We risked our lives for… for you! Look what it got us!”   
  
Steve held Bucky back, not that he thought Bucky would hurt Ella, but to keep him out of her face. He tapped on his translator, focusing hard on keeping his words simple to keep it from misfiring.   
  
“Bucky… it’s okay-”   
  
“It’s not okay,” Bucky screamed as he became more incensed. “Listen to that thing! It’s not okay! He’s not okay! We… liked you! Befriended you! Confided in you! How… how could you do that to us?! You could have… said something!”   
  
“Bucky, please calm down.” Steve glanced over his shoulder at Ella. She shook her head and wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks.   
  
“Let him say what he needs to, Steve,” she called quietly.   
  
“I think you should go-”   
  
“No!” Bucky’s metal fingers squeezed Steve’s shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. He pointed at Ella again, his eyes going cold in a way that made even Steve shudder.   
  
“You go back to your… your buddy _Fury_ … and you fucking tell him… I’m _done_. You tell him I’m sick of him… thinkin’ he knows better than the people on the front fucking line… Tell him he can find someone else to… do his dirty jobs.”   
  
Ella’s eyes shifted to Steve, silently asking if he had anything to add. He shook his head sharply and adjusted the grip he had on the trembling man in his arms.   
  
“Just go.”   
  
Ella bit at her lip, but gave a subtle nod as she turned to leave. Bucky waited until the door to their suite clicked shut before he sagged against Steve. The adrenaline had sped up the sedative’s effect upon him, and it was a wonder he’d managed to stay upright as long as he did. His cheek fell against Steve’s shoulder and he muttered something under his breath. Steve couldn’t make out what it was.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Sorry…”   
  
Again, Steve focused on his words as he picked Bucky up and carried him back to bed.   
  
“I don’t know what for. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He tucked Bucky under the covers again and pushed the hair from his face. Steve tapped off his translator and signed instead, finding he preferred it with Bucky.   
  
**Sleep, okay? I’m just going to go rinse off the antiseptic smell since it gives you nightmares. I’ll be right back. I’m not going anywhere until you’re awake again… okay?**   
  
“Yeah… ‘kay,” Bucky slurred, reaching for Steve’s fingers. He missed, but Steve scooped up his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, then to his forehead. He waited until Bucky’s eyes closed, then slipped his hand under Bucky’s pillow. He carefully withdrew the steak knife Bucky had hidden there, and placed it inside the nightstand. His shower was quick apart from the wild scratching he did where his hair was already growing back. It itched like crazy, but he finally got the worst of the sensation taken care of. He pulled on a pair of boxers after drying off, and slipped into bed. He managed to get Bucky down to just his boxers as well, knowing he’d hate waking up too hot to remain close to Steve. Skin contact was important now, even if Bucky was asleep. His brain still recognized the safety of being cuddled by Steve, and it kept the nightmares to a minimum once the sedative started to wear off.   
  
___________________________________   


 

Ella popped another slide beneath the microscope, then adjusted the focus. She stared at the misshapen blood cells, but her mind was still stuck in the loop of what happened with Bucky earlier. She felt guilty and she hated that Steve and Bucky were hurting. She was determined to keep working on a better therapy for Steve. After talking to Bruce, they were both still undecided about how to approach Bucky’s symptoms. Bruce told her that Bucky seemed mostly fine apart from the lapses in speech that bordered upon mild aphasia. His scans showed a few lesions on his brain, but both she and Bruce were hesitant to pump him full of anything just yet. He’d shown a remarkable ability to heal the damage caused by HYDRA’s chair, and this virus was originally intended to not affect him, at least in theory. Part of being a scientist and analyst was knowing when to back away and allow nature to run its course. The problem was that they couldn’t be entirely sure that was the best thing for Bucky.  
  
The lab doors slid open and a soldier entered. He stopped short and gaped at Ella. She clicked off the microscope and folded her arms, waiting for him to get it out of his system.   
  
“Dr. Aubrey…?”   
  
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Long story short- Not dead, as Sherlock would say.”   
  
“Right. Okay then.”   
  
Bruce had mentioned calling one of Steve’s friends in. Having Ella suddenly in Steve’s face had rattled him, even if he had set it aside to help Bucky. Bruce hoped having this man back at the tower would be a good thing overall.   
  
“Are you Sam?”   
  
That snapped the soldier out of his stunned reverie. He walked forward and held out his hand.   
  
“Yeah, sorry. Sam Wilson. Bruce asked me to come back because of an emergency. Not really uncommon in this joint, but… yeah, uh… I can see why he called. How’d they take it?”   
  
“Steve a lot better than Bucky,” Ella admitted slowly. “I think that’s only because Bucky needed him. Bucky thought he was hallucinating when he saw me. It took quite a bit for Steve to convince him he wasn’t.”   
  
Sam winced and rolled his eyes. “And no one thought to tell them you weren’t dead? Wait, don’t bother answering that. Bruce probably thought Tony was going to. Tony ain’t that kind of guy. He probably thought Fury would tell me to tell them… or something close to that.”   
  
Ella pooched her lips out and nodded. “Yep. Pretty much that.”   
  
“I didn’t see you anywhere around,” Sam questioned with a jerk of his thumb. “Where were you holed up?”   
  
“Med bay,” she answered. “I was getting pumped full of saline solution and antibiotics… and some kind of Asgardian goo on my hands to speed the healing up on the burns.”   
  
She rubbed at her eyes and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t even know what an Asgardian was until yesterday.”   
  
“Heh, wait’ll you meet Thor. He’s a trip,” Sam grinned.   
  
“Tony painted quite a picture of him,” Ella smiled back. She rolled her neck and peered up at Sam.   
  
“Fury’s ignoring my calls,” she grimaced. “He has data files that I sent to him that I need back. They’ve got statistics and notes in them that I need to keep working on in tandem with what we have here. Bruce and I are working on trying to get an inoculation for people, but I’m also trying to help Steve and Bucky.”   
  
“Say no more,” Sam replied, holding up a single hand without unfolding his arms. “I got this and then some.”   
  
“You gonna go up against Nick Fury, Sam?” Ella found herself liking this guy’s style already.   
  
“I don’t need to go up against him,” Sam grinned again as he began to back up. “I’m a very convincing kinda guy when I want to be.”   
  
“If you find him.”   
  
“Oh, I’ll find him,” Sam promised with a wink thrown over his shoulder. “See ya around, Dr. Aubrey.”   
  
“See ya, Sam.” Ella watched him saunter out of the lab and wondered how she got so lucky as to be surrounded by such characters. She didn’t know Sam, but she didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t make good on his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised y'all that Ella would still be part of the story. ;)


	8. "I would have fought for you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sets a few things straight. Bucky confronts Ella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long with this. I took what was intended to be a short break to write a prequel piece for this AU (Ghost In The Wind). I had a chunk of this chapter written, but the more I wrote, the more I realized I wanted to get Ghost written since it's really meant to underline Bucky's state of mind in the coming chapters. I was halfway through writing Ghost when my beloved cat Ella died. To make matters worse, when I turned her over to be cremated, the company that handles it didn't read her care tag and cremated her along with their routine group cremation so I couldn't get her ashes back. She was the inspiration for naming Ella Aubrey, so you can imagine how hard it was to try and sit here repeatedly typing "Ella".
> 
> So again, sorry for the wait! Thank you to everyone that's stuck with this story. I appreciate it and your feedback so much. xoxo -Grey

Fingers in his hair.  
  
He snuffled and keened into the touch until more awareness filtered in. He froze for a moment and quickly catalogued his surroundings by sound, touch, and smell. As his brain came back online, his muscles uncoiled. He was in no danger. He was safe. The hand scraping nails over his scalp and toying with strands of his hair was gentle. There was no malice or tension in the second hand resting lightly upon his half-bare hip. There was no stiff, scratchy lab coat that reeked of inhumanity. Instead, there was skin beneath his cheek, warm... and still smelling faintly of soap. The skin contact carried downward, interrupted only by his shorts. The heartbeat he heard was too fast to belong to anyone except the man that was his haven.  
  
 _Steve_.  
  
Bucky scooted closer and nuzzled against Steve’s chest. An amused huff sounded beneath his ear, and Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, knowing he was aware enough not to feel trapped. This was something Bucky always appreciated; with the exception of a couple of missteps, Steve instinctively knew when to use a light hand or tentative approach.  
  
Steve stayed there, rubbing Bucky’s back for a while before he finally poked him in the side. An unspoken request. Bucky whined softly and burrowed his face into the crook of Steve’s arm. Another poke earned Steve a soft growl that made his chest quiver a little. Silent laughter.  
  
Then Bucky remembered.  
  
He’d lied to Steve. Worse, Steve _knew_ he’d lied. The saddened look on Steve’s face came back all too vividly. He was going to have to open his eyes and see that look again, and that was the worst thing ever. A lecture he could take; he’d certainly earned a few in his long lifetime, but that disappointed look was a kick in the gut.  
  
“How do you feel?”  
  
Bucky startled and grimaced at the modulated translator voice. “Wow… I’m sorry but…”  
  
“You hate it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Bucky winced. “I feel really selfish asking you to turn it off-”  
  
A single finger lightly tapped his eye. Steve pulled his arm from beneath Bucky’s head so he could sign once Bucky hesitantly opened his eyes.  
  
 **I planned on keeping it turned off when it’s just us. You didn’t react well to it when you heard it earlier. Only used it now because you wouldn’t look at me.**

Bucky blinked slowly as he averted his gaze. “So I guess it’s time for a major lecture, huh?”

Steve sighed and tapped him again, forcing Bucky to look at his face rather than just his hands.  
  
 **No lecture. Just a request that you not lie to me. I need that from you, Buck. I don’t expect you to tell me every little thing, but please don’t lie to me.**  
  
Bucky stared at Steve, stunned that it was just that. Steve’s eyes were somber, but there was no disappointment or judgement there.   
  
“I’m sorry, Steve-”  
  
 **There’s nothing you need to apologize for. I get that you didn’t want me to worry that you were having a setback. It just makes me sad that you don’t understand that lying to me or hiding things from me causes me to worry way more than just being straight with me.**  
  
His eyes squeezing shut in frustration, Bucky gritted his teeth. “I worked so hard on the things Bruce taught me, and I hadn’t had an episode like that in so long…”  
  
Steve immediately cupped his face and kissed him tenderly. He rested his forehead to Bucky’s for a moment, then pulled back to sign.  
  
 **I know… but Bucky, even if it had been a real hallucination, you can’t beat yourself up or feel ashamed of it.**   
  
Bucky couldn’t help but avert his eyes again, despite Steve’s words. “If it really had been a setback, what would you have done…?”  
  
Steve’s expression was confused at first, probably not understanding the direction Bucky was taking this. His eyes cleared quickly though, and his jaw settled into that determined jut.  
  
 **I would have fought for you.**  
  
“How many times can you do that, Stevie?” Bucky scoffed. It felt like a fair question to ask in that moment. How long could Steve maintain the vigil he kept over Bucky’s mental state? It didn’t seem like a fair trade at all, so he didn’t get why Steve’s eyes went a little hard. The question had pissed him off, at least a little.  
  
 **I don’t know, Bucky; how many times did you do it for me? Should we take a count over the years and use that as my ceiling?**  
  
“What?! I didn’t keep count! It wasn’t like that-”   
  
**Would you have cut me loose eventually? Gotten tired of taking care of me when I got sick?**  
  
Bucky was horrified by the insinuation that he could ever stop wanting to look after Steve. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach, and he realized he’d really stepped in it with Steve by questioning his commitment.  
  
“I could never cut you loose, Stevie. I’ve always thought the moon hung on you, even before I knew I loved you.”  
  
Steve’s overall expression softened, but his eyes still glinted with a bit of steel behind them. If he could have crossed his arms while speaking to Bucky, he likely would have.  
  
 **It was the same for me, Bucky. It still is, so what in the hell makes you think I could do any less for you? Don’t worry; I get it. I felt like a burden to you all the time back then, but I understand why you stuck with me now. When you came back, all I wanted to do was protect you, keep you safe, and do whatever I needed to do to help you heal. You're my heart, James Buchanan Barnes, not a burden. You will never be a burden.**  
  
Yeah, he’d stepped in it alright, but luckily Steve understood where it came from and had already forgiven him. Bucky could see it in the way Steve’s face and shoulders were relaxing now. He could probably see how rotten Bucky felt for doubting him.  
  
“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean it that way. I really didn’t. I just… I don’t-”  
  
 **You still don’t think you’re worth the trouble.**  
  
“Yeah-”  
  
 **I didn’t think I was worth it either. You are to me, even if you don’t believe it yourself. You mean everything to me.**

All Bucky could do was stare at this man that he so adored and cherished. Steve cupped his face and placed kisses to his forehead, cheek, and lips. He pulled back and gave him a sweet smile and a wink.

** I want to help, especially now that I’ve got even more reason to want to hold your hand through things. **

Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Stevie, you sap.”  
  
 **But you’re still here.**  
  
“Ugh, turning my fucking words back on me again.” He dropped his head back to the pillow and just gazed at Steve, who blinked back at him patiently. It used to be a rarity, that kind of patience coming from Steve. Even with Bucky, Steve tended to chomp at the bit when he was still scraggly. After Steve rescued him and the 107th, Steve still got impatient with people, but it was tempered with the knowledge that he carried a lot of responsibility suddenly. Taking lead of the Commandos put actual lives into his hands and that gave him perspective that toned down some of his destructive impulsiveness. Of course some of that was egged on by the nature of being in the Commandos. They were all buffoons taking every delight they could in fucking up HYDRA’s plans.  
  
When Bucky came back, Steve had changed. Given the changes in Bucky, it was certainly for the best. Where before Steve would twitch and glare with the need to do something, now he seemed to have almost infinite patience with Bucky. Not much with anyone else at times, but he almost always knew how to hang back, give Bucky just enough space, and just wait. Wait until Bucky came to him, or until he seemed more approachable. He knew when to hold out a hand, and when to let Bucky take his own steps.  
  
It was pretty obvious what topic Steve was waiting to tackle next.  
  
“So… Ella.”  
  
The corner of Steve’s mouth twitch upward uncomfortably, and he looked about the room as he decided what to say first.  
  
“Aw please don’t go gallant on me and fucking defend her, Steve.”  
  
Steve’s brows drew together sharply as he frowned back at Bucky.  
  
 **Not defending her. Still pissed**.  
  
“But…” Bucky hedged, knowing there was more Steve had to say. Steve rolled his eyes before continuing.  
  
 **We both know that if we were put in her position, we would have taken a deal like that to protect each other… and we’re way more reckless than her. We’re used to this life. She’s not. Or wasn’t anyway**.  
  
“But she sure was okay with stabbing herself with that shit at the clinic,” Bucky glared, not wanting to budge. Steve shrugged.

**Like I said, still pissed… but I am trying to be fair about it. She didn’t know us. Why wouldn’t she choose protecting her best friend and godson over everything else? They’re her family. It’s what we would’ve done. It’s what we still do. All the time**.

“I concede nothing at this time,” Bucky huffed, rolling onto his back to stare at the patterns of lights reflecting onto the ceiling from the other skyscrapers. He saw Steve smile softly from the corner of his eye, which kinda raised his hackles even more.  
  
“Don’t do the smile, Steve. I want to hold onto my anger for now.”  
  
A soft snort sounded, and Bucky felt another tap. He sighed dramatically and rolled his head to look over at his ridiculous boyfriend.  
  
 **She’s working with Bruce. I can be civil. What about you?**  
  
“I don’t know,” Bucky answered honestly. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”  
  
 **And some confrontations to have.**  
  
“Maybe. Dunno,” he shrugged, going back to looking at the ceiling to avoid Steve’s knowing smirk. It was fond, but still knowing, and that irked the hell out of Bucky right then.  
  
And damn him, Steve knew it too.  
  
He leaned over, curling himself to Bucky’s side. He nuzzled Bucky’s jaw, and when Bucky didn’t react, he bit it hard enough to leave a mark.  
  
“Ow! ’The fuck, Stevie?”  
  
Steve just grinned and mouthed ‘I love you’ against his neck. Bucky tried to shove him off, but Steve didn’t move an inch. In fact, he curled tighter around Bucky and bit his shoulder. This time it sent a shock through Bucky’s body straight to a spot that Bucky’s anger wanted him to ignore.  
  
“Stop that,” he grunted.  
  
And when did Steve ever really listen to him, especially when he was this determined? That would be a big, fat  _never_.  
  
Steve moved his mouth over Bucky’s nipple and bit, but this time Bucky’s ridiculous boyfriend looked up at him through his ridiculous lashes and just held the pebbled flesh between his ridiculous teeth. Of course Bucky’s ridiculous cock took a vested interest in that.  
  
“Fucking brat… have you even eaten yet?”  
  
Steve let go of Bucky long enough to straddle his hips. He shifted intentionally as he pretended to find a comfortable spot. Then he had the nerve to smile with his eyes hooded and oozing with filthy thoughts. They practically flashed above his head in neon.  
  
 **Wanted you to feed me again… like before.**

“Oh really.” 

Steve nodded slowly, his smile becoming utterly deviant. Bucky’s cock pretty much grabbed pom pons and started cheering over that. Porn had it all wrong, because that smile alone was doing more than any money shot ever would. Jesus, he had a monster on his hands… and he fucking loved it. Inconvenient when he was trying his best to be a pouty little asshole though.

Sensing too much resistance, Steve leaned down and nudged at Bucky’s lips with his tongue, playful at first, but then with more determination. Bucky watched him with amusement until Steve ground his erection down against Bucky’s. The gasp he got from Bucky was exactly what Steve wanted, and he dove right in. Desire seemed to be just the right kind of teacher for Steve, because he was licking into Bucky’s mouth and sucking upon his bottom lip like a fucking pro. 

Bucky couldn’t even be bothered to remember what he was trying to be angry about as he came up for air.  
  
“Fine… but bring it in here. I’m not ending up on Junior’s redtube channel.”  
  
Steve nearly toppled off the bed as he scrambled off Bucky to get to the freshly-delivered food in the other room. Bless Jarvis for not interrupting this time. Bucky just grinned and waited. Steve didn’t even move that fast when he was lapping Sam during their morning runs.  
  
__________  
  
His eyes blinked open slowly as Steve returned from his shower. In his blissed out, sated state, he’d dozed off. Steve needed to go meet Tony in the lab for more calibration since Bucky’s run in with Ella had cut it short. Bucky had done his best to get Steve to just stay in bed with him, but Steve had gone through the procedure to have that blasted thing implanted. He needed it to work properly.  
  
 **Might be two or three hours. What are you planning on doing?**  
  
“Doing absolutely nothing sounds just fine by me right now,” Bucky muttered with only a hint of a pout.  
  
 **So lazy. Tony mentioned having to go out in the suit to help with some round ups so shouldn’t be any longer than three hours tops. If you’re coherent when I get back, we can pick up where we left off.**  
  
“Don’t need to be coherent for that,” Bucky smirked wickedly, stretching out his arm to hook his fingertip into the band of Steve’s underwear, “just awake… at least moderately awake...”   
  
He remembered how hot it had been to slowly wake up to rutting against Steve’s hip in Los Angeles. The soft hues of his dream had gradually faded into vivid reality, and the gentle, lazy pace of it had been a piece of paradise that Bucky kept tucked away in his mind. It still made his gut flutter with arousal each time he revisited the memory.  
  
Steve’s smile told him well enough that his boyfriend’s mind had also taken a brief trip back to that house. He leaned over and kissed Bucky, breathing ‘I love you’ against his lips. Bucky smiled contentedly and murmured it back.  
  
 **Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit.**   
  
“I’ll be here… keeping the bed nice and warm for you…”  
  
Steve snorted as he finished getting dressed then headed out. Bucky listened to the click of the outer door as he lay there. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could go back to sleep, but it would likely take a while since he was completely awake now. Watching a movie didn’t interest him at all. What he wanted was Steve and his zero-to-sixty refractory period back in their bed, but since _that_ couldn’t happen…  
  
“Jarvis?”  
  
“Yes, Bucky?”  
  
“Oh good, you’re listening.”  
  
“Passive only, as agreed, sir.”  
  
“Cool… okay… uh… How much of the tower’s staff is still here?”  
  
“The tower is ninety percent staffed.”  
  
“Really? That much?”  
  
“After Loki’s invasion, Sir implemented a relatively feudalistic protocol in cases of city-wide emergencies. All staff are encouraged to bring their immediate family inside the tower if they don’t already live here.There are five floors held vacant and dedicated to staff housing under such conditions.”  
  
Bucky blinked at that, impressed that Tony would take those types of precautions. He might be obnoxious with no verbal filter at times, but Tony really did like to protect those around him. So long as you didn’t cross him, you had it good if you were under his wing.  
  
“Wow. That’s really generous of Tony… but please don’t repeat that to him, Jarvis.”  
  
“Certainly not.”  
  
“Okay then…” Bucky sucked his bottom lip between his teeth while he thought. “I’m gonna need a couple of things. I’d like them kept confidential since they don’t pose any type of security threat…”  
  
“The tower is currently on lockdown. Any trips outside must be cleared due to threat of infection.”  
  
That was certainly a welcome safety precaution, but there were several shops on the second and third levels. One was VIP level only, however Jarvis could easily get one of the senior staff cleared for that shop to get what Bucky was going to request.   
  
“Understood, Jarvis, but these can be taken care of inside the tower.”  
  
___________________________________  
  
Ella frowned at the monitor before her. The readings and spectrums she had displayed there were troubling. It was something she was going to have to go over in-depth with Bruce once he came back up to the lab. Currently, he was checking Steve over again. The blood she was looking at was from the sample he’d just taken from Steve. They would need to get a current sample from Bucky to compare results between the two men.  
  
She prepared one more sample for the cytometer before setting the vial back into the holding rack. She stood, intent upon returning the four vials to the secure hold. When she turned though, Bucky was standing directly behind her in his full uniform. She gasped loudly, and fumbled the rack, but Bucky’s hand shot out and caught it effortlessly. How he’d gotten into the lab without the door’s normal whooshing sound alerting her was anyone’s guess, but then, that’s what Bucky did. He was an assassin after all, and right now he looked every bit the part.   
  
“Jesus,” she hissed, rubbing her brow with a shaking hand. “Don’t mind me. I’ve only got highly infectious blood samples in my hand.”  
  
“Not anymore,” Bucky smirked. Everything about him was different from LA. His tone was deliberately low in his throat. His stance in LA had been agitated and prickly, but now he was completely silent and still. It reminded her of that moment at the minimart when he’d taken out the zombie across the street.   
  
“Are you going back out,” she asked, gesturing to his uniform. His eyes were colder than she’d ever seen them. The rack of blood vials remained secure in his metal hand.  
  
“Training while Steve goes through more _calibration_ ,” he answered, pointedly referring to Steve’s voice modulator. Ella’s eyes slid to the table behind him, narrowing at the plastic cup behind him.  
  
“With Starbucks? Isn’t that defeating the purpose a little?” The scrawl on the side and the drizzle over the whipped cream told her it was a salted caramel frappuccino. The bit of wrapper still left on the top of the straw told her he hadn’t touched it yet.  
  
The corner of Bucky’s lips curled cooly as his eyes bore holes through her.    
  
“Perk of the serum.”  
  
“Lucky you,” Ella nodded, and Bucky just held her gaze. She was under no illusions about why he was here, and she seriously doubted that he needed to train in his full gear. He was here to make her feel like shit and speak his mind. She had no intentions of trying to stop him from doing so. He deserved that much at least, but she did need to take care of the samples first.  
  
“I need to put those back in the secure cooler,” she sighed once she’d swallowed the knot in her throat. He handed the rack back to her without a word. She gripped it with both hands and scooted around him, not really surprised when he followed her down the hall to the cooler. Maybe he thought she’d try to duck out on him.   
  
When they returned to the lab, Ella turned and faced Bucky. She leaned back against the desk and waited for him to say whatever was on his mind. He said nothing though, choosing instead to stare at her with his arms resting loosely at his sides. It was far more unnerving than if he’d crossed his arms over his chest, and he obviously knew that. He was a master at letting his looming reputation and imposing stature carry the bulk of being intimidating. It was more effective than Ella wanted to let on, and she had to force her body language to remain open.  
  
“What do you want to know first?” she finally asked.  
  
“Start at the beginning,” he answered simply, voice deliberately flat.  
  
“I told Nick that I had no business handling the research on the virus, but he disagreed. So did Bruce-”  
  
“Banner.”  
  
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I focus on biochemistry, but I’ve got some experience with immunology and genetics coding. Because I was on this from the beginning, they both wanted me to continue on with studying the effects of the virus. Now that I’ve had frontline dealings with it and have been able to see the victims evolving, I’m onboard for the long haul. All of that was well and good, but I told Nick that I needed to get Jai and Tristan out of the city before I did anything. He said he would take care of that for me if I just… followed a plan he had set up.”  
  
“Which involved what exactly?”  
  
“Nick sent me a micro-comm. All I was supposed to do was wear it, listen, and do exactly as they told me-”  
  
“They,” Bucky glared. “They who? Fury?”  
  
“Nick,” Ella nodded. “Agent Hill at times… and another agent I didn’t know. Coulson…?”  
  
“You sure it was Coulson?” Bucky pressed, his eyes narrowing. “I have a hard time believing Phil Coulson would be part of anything this stupid… apart from Steve’s first Avengers uniform.”  
  
“That was the name he gave,” Ella shrugged, lifting her hands slightly. “I don’t know these people, Bucky-”  
  
“James.”  
  
“What?” Ella blinked back at him. “James who?”  
  
“You call me James now. Not Bucky. Not anymore.” 

Ella’s mouth closed as she stared at him. That hurt, but he had every right to be angry. She inhaled slowly as her shoulders drooped. She finally nodded. 

“Okay. If that’s what you want-”

“Yep.”  
  
“Okay,” she sighed, then thought a moment to remember what she’d been saying. “I did what they told me. Nick assured me before it started that you both would understand why it was kept secret once you were both debriefed.”  
  
“Not really, no,” Bucky did cross his arms at that, and Ella noticed how tightly his right fist was clenched. “What I understand is that Steve died. He died, Ella. The love of my fucking life was in my arms and I watched him fucking die. Would you want to hear anyone’s excuses if it were you? We shouldn’t have even been there. It was all bullshit and if Fury wanted to fake your death, he could have done it a million other ways.”  
  
“I don’t disagree with you, Bucky- James,” she whispered, hating the pain they’d endured, and the road they still had to travel. “I didn’t understand any of it at the time. Nick told me on the way back here that anyone watching would see us go into the clinic, then see you leave without me, then the building blow up. He said they’d assume that I’d been bitten and that you’d blown the building to prevent the spread of the infection.”  
  
“Anyone could have done that,” Bucky hissed at her. “He has teams trained for his brand of mind fucking, Ella.”  
  
“And I would know that how?” Ella held his stare before dropping her head back to stare at the ceiling while she collected herself. She didn’t want to yell at him and escalate anything.  
  
“He said it needed to be you two because HYDRA agents would know that neither of you would leave me behind unless I was dead… especially Steve.”

Bucky just shook his head at her, barely keeping a cap on his anger. Ella saw it plainly enough though.

“They rammed us with a fucking car. Anything could have happened there.”  
  
“I didn’t know about the car, B- James. They only told me the bare minimum.”  
  
“Steve was injured in that accident,” he reminded her, his voice raising slightly.  
  
“I know," she winced, wishing she could get her hands around Nick Fury's neck. "He’s enhanced though. Nick said they planned it so even I wasn't in danger of-”  
  
“It still hurt him, Ella!” Bucky screamed at her suddenly. “I don’t give a fuck what Nick Fury told you! He was in pain and it was fucking uncalled for! You people think since we've got the serum that it's no big deal if we get injured-”  
  
"I didn't mean that at all-"  
  
"-but it _still_ _fucking hurts_! There's still _pain_ involved! We're not fucking machines! We get hurt and one of these days it's gonna be something that won't heal right, or it'll be too much to come back from... but you motherfuckers don't care so long as your fucking objectives are met! Fuck you, Ella! Fuck you and Nick Fury!"  
  
“I am sorry,” Ella gasped, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. She wasn’t afraid to take the weight of his anger, but it broke her heart to hear him in so much pain.   
  
“I’m sorry, James… for everything.” She didn’t really think he’d ever forgive her, but she’d keep repeating her apology as much as she had to. Bucky clenched his fists and stepped into her space so that he loomed over her again. His arm whined loudly, then went chillingly still and silent.  
  
“I don’t want your apology,” he growled through gritted teeth, pushing his face close to hers. “I want you to fix this. You’d better find a fucking cure for Steve-”  
  
“And you-”  
  
“I don’t care about that,” he grunted.  
  
“Steve does,” she pointed out.  
  
“Him,” Bucky demanded. “You cure him first, you hear me?”  
  
“I’m doing everything I can,” Ella promised. “I’ll find it. With Bruce here too, it’s just a matter of time. We’ll cure you both, okay? This is what you saved me for; I’m doing _my_ part now.”  
  
It seemed like Bucky was debating on whether he’d made his point when Ella remembered she needed to get a blood sample from him again.  
  
“I… almost forgot…. Jarvis was going to let you know that we need a fresh blood sample from you so that we can run parallel tests against it along with the samples Bruce just got from Steve.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her so she held up a hand. “If you’d rather Bruce did it, I can call him up here.”  
  
“He’s with Steve though.”  
  
“Yeah. He is.”  
  
Bucky pulled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve as he walked over to the chair. He sat down then dropped his arm loudly onto the table. Ella took a steadying breath and gathered the collection kit. She was acutely aware of his enraged eyes staring holes through her as she tied the elastic band around his bicep and prepped his vein. It was vastly different from how he’d reacted in LA, but she’d rather he be angry than about to have a meltdown over being poked with another needle. She was happy to take the brunt of that anger if it made it easier for him.  
  
As she inserted the needle and slowly filled the collection vial, she remembered his words to her at the mini-mart, and his guilt-ridden words in the containment suite. It brought tears to her eyes as it replayed in her mind.  
  
“What?”  
  
She’d forgotten for a moment how intently Bucky was watching her. She pursed her lips and sniffled, blinking away the moisture in her eyes.  
  
“Earlier… what you said in the suite… about choosing wrong-”  
  
“I was stoned on sedatives,” he dismissed harshly. “I’m sure I said a lot of shit.”  
  
“Well I’m just going to say this because I think you need to hear it-”  
  
“Ella-”  
  
“No, shut up,” she sniffled again. “Even if it had gone the way you thought it did… even if I really did die out there… You didn’t fail me.”  
  
He tensed and glared at the wall beyond her. “I don’t need to hear-”  
  
“You did not fail me,” she stressed. “You did not choose wrong. You did exactly what you were supposed to, James. You need to believe that and stop thinking you’re somehow less of a good man than Steve-”

Bucky’s eyes snapped back to her, his discomfort with the topic pushing his temper over the boiling point again. “Finish the sample and leave me the fuck alone,” he snarled at her.  
  
Knowing she couldn't push her point further, she wiped her cheek quickly with the arm of her lab coat and remained silent as the last tube filled. Like LA, as soon as the needle was clear of his skin, Bucky shot upright, grabbed his jacket and started for the door. He paused long enough to snatch up the Starbucks cup, yank the straw cover off and take a drink of it.  
  
“That’s fucking disgusting,” he scowled, and threw it into the trash while shooting her a dirty look.  
  
Ella rubbed her eyes wearily as he stormed out of the room. She turned back to her cytometer and frowned at the results, not yet able to focus on them. She’d call Bruce once she took a moment to pull herself back together.  
  
_________________________________________________________________

 

Bucky made it past the glass windows of the lab then slipped into an alcove just beyond. He forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose as he pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the wall and tried to calm his anger.   
  
“Bucky, are you all right?”  
  
Bucky sighed and opened his eyes. “Yeah, Jarvis. I’m okay.”  
  
“Your heart rate went above recommended levels.”  
  
“Yeah, I was pissed.” He looked at the small speaker to his left that Jarvis was using. “Did you tell Steve?”  
  
“That _is_ protocol,” Jarvis admitted and Bucky groaned.  
  
“He on his way here?”  
  
“No. He instructed that you not be interrupted with an inquiry to your well-being. I’ve taken the liberty now that you are alone again.”  
  
“I’m fine, pal,” Bucky sighed again, relieved that Steve was giving him the space he needed.  
  
“Were the salted caramel frappuccinos unsatisfactory? Shall I have all three replaced for you?”  
  
“Nope. I’m good, Jarvis. Thanks.”  
  
“You did tell Dr. Aubrey that they were disgusting,” Jarvis hedged, something like apprehension coming through. Bucky looked down at the alcove floor. He leaned down, picked up both of the fraps he’d left there, and took a long drink from one.   
  
“I lied,” he admitted as he started back for their suite. “I do that sometimes.”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”  
  
“It’s a uh… human thing, Jarvis. Don’t stress it,” he reassured the AI, then paused. “Jarvis, do my requests override Ella’s?”  
  
“Unless it is a medical emergency, yes.”

“Oh good,” Bucky smiled. “If Ella Aubrey orders one of these…? Tell her they’re out of salted caramel.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
“Thanks for the help, pal.”  
  
“Of course, Bucky.”  
  
________________________________  
  
He wasn’t asleep when Steve came back to the suite, but he was tucked under the covers in their bed. He watched the lights of the city continue to shimmer as if nothing unusual was happening on the various streets below. He smiled softly when Steve crawled under the covers and pressed the length of his body against Bucky’s. He didn’t move as Steve’s hand slid over his skin, silently appreciative of his nudity.  
  
“Thank you,” Bucky murmured against his pillow. Steve’s hand stopped, a mute question. Bucky rolled over so he could see Steve’s curious face.  
  
“You left me alone to handle my own shit, even when Jarvis told you I was upset.”  
  
Steve’s face colored slightly and he looked a bit sheepish.  
  
 **Where’s my Starbucks?**  
  
Bucky’s mouth fell open as he stared at Steve, who winced and signed again.  
  
 **I may have eavesdropped…?**  
  
“Really, Steve?” Bucky sat up and indignantly crossed his arms. “I was gonna be so proud of you!”  
  
 **I didn’t get involved! I just wanted to make sure you were okay…**  
  
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you!” He shoved Steve away from him, but the super soldier quickly crawled into his lap and smiled down at him. “Nooooo get off of me! You’re an asshole!”

**Are you really angry at me...? Because the uniform and the Starbucks bit…? It was really juvenile… but it was also kinda hot…**

“Nooo, flattery’s not making this better,” Bucky yelled, trying desperately not to smile as his chest warmed. “You just want me to tell you where your frappuccino is!”  
  
 **Maybe later** , Steve signed, while rolling his hips over Bucky’s crotch. **I’m trying to get my boyfriend on the same page as me.**  
  
“Uh huh… What page is that…?” 

** Trying to get him as turned on as I am. **

Bucky pulled Steve close as their lips brushed. He deepened the kiss and Steve sighed into his mouth. When he pulled away, he raised his eyebrows questioningly at Bucky.  
  
“I’m still pissed.”  
  
 **At me, or at Ella?**  
  
“At Ella. I mean… yeah, you were right... We would’ve done something just as stupid probably… maybe more stupid… but I’m angry.”

Steve shrugged and signed. **I didn’t tell you not to be.**

Bucky stared up at him. “So that’s it? No lecture about being mean to Ella?”  
  
Steve’s head drew back a little in surprise, and he looked a little dismayed.  
  
 **Believe it or not, I don’t actually get off on lecturing people, Buck, especially not you. I’m not going to tell you how you should feel.**   
  
Bucky chewed at his bottom lip. “I was maybe a little harsh,” he hedged, but Steve leaned forward slightly to fix him with a firm gaze.  
  
 **You had to watch me die, Buck. You’re definitely entitled to your opinion.**  
  
“Have you forgiven her already?”  
  
Steve’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. His bottom lip pooched out as he studied Bucky.  
  
 **What was Ella talking about when she said you thought you chose wrong? You said it to her in the hallway here too.**  
  
 _Damn it._  
  
Bucky kept his gaze even for a second before smirking at Steve and running his fingers over the naked flesh at his hips.  
  
“What happened to us being on that page and being turned on?”  
  
 **Don’t try to distract me**.  
  
“Really? We're gonna do _this_ now? You rub against my dick an’ then go Dr. Phil on me, Steve?”  
  
 **Bucky.**  
  
“Rude, Stevie. Rude.” He held Steve’s stare as he held his own breath, hoping Steve would let it go, but that chin jutted back out and Bucky knew Steve’s stubborn side had kicked in. He let out a long, defeated sigh and let his head fall back against the pillows. His stomach rolled over what he was about to say, feeling like an anvil was hanging over his head again.  
  
“Told her back in LA that she had to be vigilant and do her best to keep herself safe… because if you were both in danger at the same time, I would make the wrong call… and then I would have to live with you being disappointed in me for not protecting her the way I should have. I told her it would happen, and it did…”  
  
He chanced a look at Steve and cringed as the shock he saw there. He averted his eyes quickly and rubbed at his face. “M’not like you, Steve. You’ve always just done the right thing… the noble thing. I don’t know anything except watching out for you… I can’t turn that off for anyone or anything.”  
  
Steve poked at him to get eye contact, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to see that shocked expression again, or what it might have turned into. Steve poked him again, and when he still didn’t respond, Steve pinched him as hard as he could. Bucky jerked away and hissed, but he didn’t yell at him. Steve put his hands where Bucky was trying to avoid his eyes and signed, the angle almost comical.  
  
 **Look at me or I’ll turn this thing on and make you listen instead**.  
  
Bucky huffed out a breath and slowly pulled his eyes back to Steve’s. The shock had shifted to sadness, but there was determination there as well.  
  
 **You have to stop comparing yourself to me. I’m not perfect. I’m not this bright, shiny, beacon. That’s Captain America and he’s a persona, Buck. I don’t always make the right call. It might seem that way but that’s just warped perception on your part. You took control of the situation in that building just like you’ve done countless times before, and you got us all out.**  
  
“Steve-” Steve quickly cut him off by putting his hand over Bucky’s mouth. He put his index finger to his own lips to shush Bucky, then signed with his other hand still covering Bucky’s mouth.  
  
 **N-O-T D-O-N-E.**

Bucky rolled his eyes and nodded. Steve pulled his hand away and continued.

**You said it was instinct for you to protect me, that it’s something you can’t shut off. You can’t erase being a good man either. You were a good man at fifteen and you stayed a good man as we grew up. You put your men first when the 107th was captured. That’s what a good man does, Buck. HYDRA suppressed that, but they couldn’t erase it. It’s still there. I see it every single day**.  
  
“Pfft,” Bucky dismissed loudly, but Steve shook his head and smirked.  
  
 **Every day. Besides… think I could love a man that didn’t measure up to my lofty standards?**  
  
Bucky snorted but then grew serious. “That’s what I’m worried about, that you’ll wise up at some point.”  
  
Now Steve snorted back at him. **You took all the stupid with you, remember? I’m a goddamned genius by comparison. You should definitely listen to what I’m telling you.**  
  
Bucky couldn’t help it. His boyfriend was... ridiculous. So ridiculous and, despite what Steve insisted, he was perfect. No one would ever be able to tell Bucky anything different about the man that was his frail angel and then his staunchest protector. He burst out laughing, tears welling up in his eyes as he did. By the time he stopped, Steve’s cocky grin had faded to a more sober expression. He ran his thumb under Bucky’s eye, and there was a gentle, but firm warning behind his own eyes.  
  
 **Stop doing this to yourself. I love the man you are.**

He knew he couldn’t argue with Steve. He wouldn’t get anywhere. He wasn’t sure how Steve could love him as he was, but he knew the whole of what happened in Los Angeles now and hadn’t budged an inch. Bucky didn’t feel like questioning it any further.

“I’ll try,” he sighed. Steve seemed pleased enough with that. “And I love you too.”  
  
Steve sat fully upright and grinned mischievously.  
  
 **You called me the love of your life**.  
  
Bucky blinked at the sudden change in demeanor. He busted up laughing again and shoved Steve off of him.  
  
“Shut up!”  
  
Steve lay there holding his gut and silently laughing. Bucky missed the sound of his laughter terribly, and he tried to remember when he last heard Steve’s unique giggle. Had it been on the plane? He pushed the thought away quickly. They were in a good spot right now and he didn’t want to disrupt it with melancholy.  
  
“You _are_ the love of my life,” he murmured to Steve once he’d rolled onto his side to face his boyfriend. Steve’s laughing dropped off and he smiled serenely back at Bucky.  
  
 **And you’re mine** ,  he signed.  
  
Bucky’s lips turned upward with their own mischief. “We back on the same page again, Stevie?”  
  
Steve’s eyes sparkled roguishly. **Kiss me and find out**.  
  
Bucky did just that, and the way that Steve wrapped himself around Bucky left little doubt as to which page they’d landed upon. In the safety of Steve’s arms, Bucky could allow himself to believe every last word that Steve told him. He believed that it would all be okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of Ella, I got a couple of feedback posts that are pretty heated and pissed off at Ella. I'm going to address those in the comments, but also wanted to address it briefly here too, since not everyone reads others' comments. I apologize for not responding sooner to the feedback itself, but it's not because I'm upset by the comments. Just the opposite. I'm absolutely okay with people hating a character over something they do in the story. The only thing I never want for my OCs is apathy. I WANT them to draw a reaction from you, otherwise, why are they there? It is difficult for me to respond to certain aspects of the blowback though, because I will always have a different perception of Ella. I'm seeing her entire arc, not just where she's at, so responding is a catch 22 on that level. 
> 
> So anyway... It's fine to hate Ella if that's how you feel. She's human with human flaws. She's going to piss someone off along the way, just like every other human being does at some point. If she didn't, she'd be flat, and I'm not interested in writing flat characters. I appreciate the feedback even when it's a negative opinion, and I appreciate every single one of you that's come this far with me. I hope I can continue to evoke strong responses, because that's what storytelling is to me. :)


	9. "This is such a bad idea."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is awesome and confronts Fury. Bucky thinks some fresh air will help Steve's mood.
> 
> Did I mention Sam is awesome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm really sorry for how long it took to get this out. Work has been crazy, and July was basically a month from hell. Every time I'd sit down to write, I'd wake up with drool on my arm and a woefully blank page. I basically slept off last weekend, but this one was much more productive. On the upswing, there's a bit more happiness in my wallet, and there's smiling, glowing, sweet Sebby in his Bucky civvies from Berlin. And now there's also Chris in Steve's civvies, also in Berlin. Thank you, fan photographers!! Best inspiration ever!

Sam Wilson waited patiently as Fury edged into his new, makeshift office. He swirled the caramel-colored liquor around in the tulip tumbler, knowing it was a label way above his pay grade. The way it clung to the side of the glass, and the specific aroma of raisins, chocolate, oak, and lime backed that assumption up. Riley had been a scotch aficionado and had tried his best to make Sam one as well. He’d picked up enough from Riley to know that the glass in his hand was Glencairn, thank you very much, and that anyone with a bottle of single malt worth roughly $800 would definitely go to the trouble of having a set imported for maximum enjoyment of said liquor.

It also made him wonder what the hell Fury had been up to lately. Last he knew, SHIELD didn’t pay _that_ well. Then again, Sam couldn’t really be fooled into thinking that SHIELD had been Fury’s only iron in the fire. Ever.

“I’m gettin’ damn tired of you all thinking you can just come in here whenever you like.” Fury towered over Sam’s chair, but Sam refused to even look up.  
  
“We’re gettin’ damn tired of you not answering Dr. Aubrey’s calls or sending over the files she needs from you.”  
  
Fury remained still beside him, and Sam had no trouble feeling the weight of his one-eyed glare. He couldn’t help but to actually laugh at that point.  
  
“Oh, you’re really gonna give me a lecture about breaking in here? Really? After Steve had to replace part of his floor because you broke in and bled out all over it?”  
  
Fury’s hand shot out and pulled the scotch from Sam’s hand. Rude. Sam held back the urge to cross his arms over his chest, but he did cross his ankle over his opposite knee.

“Man, I know you didn’t just yank my glass outta my hand like I’m a damn teenager.”

“Nope. I yanked _my_ glass out of your hand because it’s got _my_ 41-year-old Glenglassaugh in it. You wanna drink? Go home and share a case of Shocktop with Barnes.”

“That’s funny. You’re a funny guy... didn’t peg you for the type to go for a cantaloupe overtone though,” Sam mused, mentioning the fruit with a snotty note of distaste. He wasn’t about to let Fury condescend to him. “You’re old though. Maybe it’s the overture of _prune_ you were going for.”  
  
“Gift from Alexander Pierce for becoming director of SHIELD,” Nick informed him flatly. He gave Sam a look of renewed appraisal, apparently re-evaluating his opinions of Sam. Good. Wasn’t Sam’s fault that Fury took his meathead fronting at relative face value. Just because Sam wasn’t interested in being an active spy, didn’t mean he couldn’t play the game if he needed to. The years since Insight had taught him a lot with regard to cloak and dagger tactics. Hell, flirting with Natasha was an eye-opening education. That alone could kill a man if he wasn’t careful.  
  
“Well that just makes my lunch want to make a reappearance,” Sam grimaced as his stomach rolled a good turn over the thought of drinking anything from Pierce. He would’ve tossed the shit after putting a bullet into the man’s chest, but clearly he and Fury were two very different men with two very different sets of values. At any rate, Sam was highly offended that the fleeting nausea ruined the pleasant memory of Natasha revving the engine of a sharp, black ‘Vette as she winked at him.  
  
Fury just stared at him dispassionately, then took a slow sip of the whisky. Sam watched him hold it on his tongue for just the right length of time before he gave it a roll around his mouth and swallowed. It was almost a challenge and Sam had no problem meeting it head-on.  
  
“I thought you were gonna give up drinking.”

“I thought I could trust Alexander Pierce not to try to kill me, but shit happens,” Fury answered glibly.  
  
“Uh yeah, it does. Steve and Bucky thought they could trust you not to get them killed-”  
  
“Steve Rogers walked into a HYDRA installation on his own and liberated the 107th. Barnes has pulled more code reds for me than I can keep count of. Pardon me if I didn’t think I needed to worry about them getting to an airport when they were together and not slowed down by a civilian.”   
  
Fury sat back in his chair, shoulders sagging only slightly. “They were supposed to stay put and wait for you. Anyone bother to ask why they didn’t follow that strongly-worded directive?”

“No, I was too busy hoping Steve wouldn’t tear a hole in the plane when he woke up infected and crazy-eyed enough to make Barnes look downright stoic.”

“And apparently you handled it just fine, as usual,” Fury retorted, annoyance seeping from his words. 

Steve had been a hot mess until Bucky corralled him into the cockpit. Once he’d dropped into a pseudo state of sleep, Sam had talked quietly with Bucky over the jet’s comm system. He’d gotten a little better sense of what happened as Barnes slowly regained more of his wits back about him. None of it was anything Sam wanted to rehash with Fury. It was clear there was no point, and time wasn’t holding still for him. Ella needed those files as soon as humanly possible.  
  
“Y’know, I came up in the ranks hearing all kinds of things about the great Nick Fury. Damn near idolized you for most of my career. Seemed like you had your shit together and were someone I could look up to.”

Fury seemed deeply amused by that, though his gaze was still carefully composed. “Change of heart, Wilson?”

“You could say that,” Sam allowed somewhat mildly in spite of his own irritation.  
  
“Well you’re welcome to sit behind this desk and juggle what I do; make the decisions I have to make… if you think you’ve got the stomach for it. Not convinced you do, though,” Fury drawled out before taking another long sip of his scotch. The one gifted to him by a murderer and Barnes’ abuser. Sam’s stomach clenched again.  
  
“Maybe not,” Sam allowed, looking to the window. A small, rueful smile touched his lips. “Probably not… but I would’ve told them what they were walking into. They could’ve handled it.”  
  
“I operate under the belief that the less anyone knows, the more likely it is to be successful.” He gestured toward Sam with his glass. “In this case, it was.”  
  
“Successful!” Sam’s eyes bugged as his mouth fell open. “You call that _successful_?” he sputtered. “Are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
“Dr. Aubrey is where she needs to be, and HYDRA’s off her back. She can work with Banner to get us a vaccine and then a cure. That was the whole objective,” Fury stated calmly.  
  
“Except she’s been trying to get files from you, and you don’t bother to get them to her. Meanwhile Steve Rogers is struggling with this infection, Barnes can’t be sent out; he wouldn’t leave Rogers even if he wasn’t infected, and the rest of the world is still cowering in their basements, and God knows where else. When exactly were you plannin’ on getting her what she needs to get down to business, Fury?”  
  
“When I knew it was safe to send them.”   
  
Still so calm, and it was more than Sam could take. He was about to let the aggression of his youth kick back in, and that wouldn’t help anyone once the instant gratification wore off… assuming Fury didn’t just shoot him in the process. He wasn’t coming off as being all that sentimental at the moment.

“Man, you know what… just gimme the files before I knock your ass out that window.”   
  
“You think you got enough in you to threaten me, Wilson?” Fury intentionally walked to the window to pour himself more scotch. A blatant invitation.  
  
“Oh, that’s not a threat. I don’t make threats,” Sam promised with a toothy smile.

“Gonna give me a last-minute lift like you did Sitwell?” Fury smiled and took a drink as he leaned on the wet bar.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that…” Sam nodded, “just like you did with Rogers and Barnes.”  
  
Fury’s smile only faltered for the tiniest moment; if Sam had blinked he would have missed it, but it was enough. He’d made himself clear. Fury sat back down at his desk and reached beneath it. Sam silently tensed, wondering if Fury was going for a stashed gun, but then he heard the telltale beeps and pop of a safe being opened. Fury leaned down and then sat back up to toss a manila envelope at Sam. He caught it against his chest and looked inside. Two flash drives and a file folder were inside. He didn’t bother to ask if it was complete; Fury wasn’t playing that kind of game with him.  
  
Sam regarded Fury a moment. “Y’know… I get being fixated on what happened with Pierce; it was huge. Woulda bruised anyone’s ego that they didn’t see it coming… but you’re missing something real important again, and it’s gonna cost you if you don’t pay better attention, Fury.”  
  
Fury’s chin lifted as he narrowed his eye at Sam. “Yeah? Don’t hold back, Wilson. What am I missing here?”  
  
“Men like Steve and Bucky aren’t guys you can just replace. They’re good at what they do, but they mean something to the public. They mean a lot more to those of us that follow them into battle. You start looking at a bottle of booze with more reverence than you do two men who have given more than anyone ever should, you got no business callin’ the shots anymore, _director_.”  
  
“Not a director anymore,” Fury reminded him quietly.  
  
“Maybe we should be thankful for that,” Sam fired back before turning to leave. He was almost to the door when Fury stopped him.  
  
“Wilson, you missed something yourself.”  
  
Sam turned and looked at Fury before he noticed the sheet of paper now on the desk. He walked back, picked up the sheet, and read it. His brows drew together and he looked at Fury again. The former director finished off his scotch without breaking eye contact with Sam or giving any explanation. Folding the paper in half, Sam tucked it into the manila envelope with a curt nod, then left Fury’s office.  
  
_____________________________

**  
** Bucky didn’t need to be in an intimate relationship to instinctively know when the bed was half-empty. He remembered enough nights curled protectively around Steve in their youth, and he had the benefit of having the same from Steve many nights after memories of his HYDRA captivity began to blitz his brain. While he could begrudgingly give Steve his seemingly needed privacy before, he now knew what it felt like to wake up to Steve as his lover. A bed void of Steve was now entirely unacceptable. **  
**

Bucky’s first thought was to look toward the bathroom door, but the lack of warmth between the sheets made the move more habitual than necessary. There were no subtle smells of food or coffee wafting into the bedroom, so he wasn’t putzing around the kitchen. Lack of sound was the biggest giveaway. It meant Steve was either sketching or brooding. A quick glance to the nightstand on Steve’s side revealed his sketch pad and favorite pencils.  
  
Brooding then.  
  
Bucky flopped backward on the bed with a soft sigh. He blinked up at the ceiling as he ran through a mental list of current internal crises that Steve was likely struggling with. He’d always been so prone to mood swings, but after the serum they’d seemed to even out a bit. It took a few months of being back in Steve’s orbit to put the pieces of his tattered memories back together enough to realize that Steve’s mood swings were actually worse post-serum. He was just better at hiding them than he used to be.  
  
But Bucky was now back to knowing this young man like the back of his hand. There wasn’t much Steve could hide from him all that well.  
  
And Steve WAS a young man. Ice naps didn’t fucking count. Sure, they could joke relentlessly about being old fucks, but the reality was that Steve was still a kid in a lot of ways. Yeah, he had to grow up fast, and the war had painted shadows into the corners of his eyes that light would never completely banish, but beneath all of that Steve still had a tender heart. The easily-bruised soul of a sensitive boy; one who lost his mother too soon and bore the brunt of too many cruel spirits. He took as much to heart as he took to the chin, and he hid it all behind the protective wall of an angry crusader.  
  
Bucky had learned to love that boy with all his heart, so he had a pretty good idea of what was troubling Steve before he even crawled from their bed.  
  
When he rounded the corner of the living room, he had a hard time fully suppressing his knowing smile. Steve was in track pants and a t-shirt, staring out the window as if he held the entire world on his back. In Steve’s mind, he actually did. The fact that he barely shifted his head to acknowledge Bucky’s approach was all the confirmation Bucky needed.  
  
Bucky stepped close to Steve’s back and rested his chin to Steve’s shoulder. He had to stretch to do it, but it had felt so comforting when Steve did it to him before, even platonically.   
  
**Sorry** , he signed listlessly.  
  
“For what?” Bucky asked softly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. He gently stroked a patch of skin just beneath the hem of Steve’s shirt.  
  
 **You always know when I leave.**  
  
Bucky considered that for a second. “Yeah, but it’s the smell of smoke from your brain being in overdrive that actually wakes me up enough to follow you.”  
  
A soft huff, the ghost of an amused chuckle.  
  
 **Peggy liked to tell me I was melodramatic.**  
  
“Oh you are and then some,” Bucky snorted softly. “Right now you’re looking down at the world and feeling impotent again. That pissed off, indignant kid who wanted to help but couldn’t is creeping back up in that brain of yours. You wanna be down there saving the world one hapless person at a time.”  
  
Steve’s eyes flicked toward Bucky, though he didn’t look directly at him.  
  
 **You make me sound like a spoiled brat.**  
  
“You are!” Bucky exclaimed through a truncated laugh. “Well,” he amended quickly, “I wouldn’t actually say spoiled, but you’ve always been a moody little brat.”  
  
 **Worst pep talk ever, Buck** , Steve signed back quickly as his lips thinned.  
  
Bucky wasn’t having any pouting on top of moping though.  
  
“When have I ever been one to blow smoke up your ass, Steve?” Bucky gently pinched what would be a love handle on anyone else. “You’re looking at this wrong. You think you’re up here being useless, but that’s not true. Not at all.”  
  
Steve’s head turned a fraction more, but he didn’t respond. He was listening, patiently for once.  
  
“You’re a guinea pig again, Steve. We both are. Somewhere in us, or because of us, they’re gonna figure out a vaccine for this shit we got saddled with. I coulda skipped the whole dying part, but if it means we get to flip the bird HYDRA’s way again…”  
  
Steve huffed again, but this time in sheer frustration. **I feel like I should be doing so much more though**.  
  
“Well yeah,” Bucky laughed, pausing to kiss the back of Steve’s shoulder and loving that he actually could. “You’re used to the whole running, jumping, climbing trees shit; pretending you’re an Olympic gymnast with a fucking overgrown frisbee.”

Bucky’s grin widened as Steve snorted loudly at the Eddie Izzard reference. They were both fairly obsessed with the comedian. Steve loved his irreverent historical references, and Bucky loved that he was irreverent, period. One of Bucky’s favorite things in the entire world to do was to randomly mutter that babies tasted like chicken when obnoxious people were getting on his nerves… all while sporting his most menacing Winter Soldier expression. Simultaneously being able to mortify Steve and clear out a KFC lobby was surprisingly entertaining. Being banned from a couple of shitty restaurants was well worth the whining and caca face he’d get from Steve during the drive home.

Okay, maybe more than a couple of shitty restaurants… but still an acceptable win/lose ratio.  
  
The first time he’d done it with Sam Wilson present had been pure, precious _gold_. His expression of confused, wary, horror had nearly made Bucky’s facade crack, but then the soldier-turned-counselor saw the annoyed, put-upon look Steve wore and realized Bucky was taking the piss in the worst way. That didn’t mean he was willing to get kicked out of a fucking KFC though. He’d carefully backed away from them and was waiting outside sitting on the hood of their security SUV when they came out, arms crossed and ready to verbally dress someone down. Bucky had assumed it’d be him until Wilson interrupted Steve’s tirade with narrowed eyes.  
  
 _“Y’all better have gotten my order right before the manager kicked your childish asses out. You do NOT want to see me running on coleslaw alone.”_  
  
Bucky started thinking he really liked Sam Wilson a lot that day.  
  
 **Who are you and what have you done with my jerk of a boyfriend?**  
  
“What, I can be sage and supportive when I’m ripping off my punk boyfriend’s advice and throwing it back in his face!” Bucky stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Like when he told me that some shit’s just outta my control and to let it go.”  
  
 **Are you wanting me to sing that for you…?**  
  
“I will stab you in your cherubic lil punk face,” Bucky replied calmly even though a trill of pure terror ran down his spine. Barton had sang that fucking song around the tower for two weeks after Natasha bought him the DVD right before she left on a solo mission. Bucky was convinced she did it on purpose.  
   
 **I could sign it instead…**  
  
“ _Steak knives_ , Steve. I’ll totally do it. You’ll heal so it’s not like I’d be drowning in guilt.”  
  
 **Okay there’s the assassin I know and love.**  
  
“Okay, I have an idea,” Bucky murmured, drawing close again and resting his palm to Steve’s nape. “How ‘bout we venture outside for bit?”  
  
Steve’s eyes narrowed immediately. **We can’t. We’re on lockdown for a reason.**  
  
“What reason?” Bucky questioned. “You’re doing good now that we know that we gotta keep you fed. We’ll just go have a look around. Little recognizance. You can show me some of that Parkour shit you love to use.”  
  
 **I think it’s a bad idea. So did Bruce and I trust his judgement on this.**  
  
“I wouldn’t let you attack anyone Steve. I think you just need some air and to get out of this place for a little bit.”  
  
Steve stared back at Bucky, contemplating the idea. It was night time now; they’d have the cover of darkness and enhanced senses on their side. Bucky held his breath and waited him out.   
  
**Get Bruce on the line. I don’t want to cause an uproar by going against the protocol we agreed to. Plus we need a couple of our weapons back.**  
  
Bucky just smiled.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------

Tony’s eyes flicked upward as they entered the lab. He was with Ella, Bruce, and a man that Bucky didn’t recognize.That put him on alert because he had at least a casual acquaintance with all of Junior’s lab monkeys. This guy didn’t look low-level either.  
  
“Ah, Jack and Rose,” Tony called out, though in a far more subdued manner than Bucky was used to hearing from him. “Everything okay?”  
  
“Not really, no,” Bucky answered, his eyes still fixed upon the stranger in the mix. Steve was already tense, and Bucky felt a surge of discomfort that he knew came from Steve. He wondered if they would keep this odd connection once they were cured. He found it comforting even when it was a little disorienting.  
  
“Can I have your ear for a minute, Tony?”  
  
“Kinky,” Tony breathed, but he nodded and walked away from the other three. Bucky had gotten Steve to agree to stay back and let Bucky talk to Tony alone. He didn’t want anything Tony said to upset Steve and risk putting him into a worse funk than he was already in, especially if Tony tried to refuse letting them leave.  
  
“Who’s the new guy?”  
  
“Edward Marcase,” Tony answered. “He’s a virologist and used to be part of a top secret bio-crisis team. He uh, also survived Ebola as a youngster even though it killed everyone else around him, including his parents. Real party animal. We agreed he needed to be brought in, but we had to find a safe place and time to pick him up to get him here. I literally brought the asshole in by sticking him in the Mark-40 and having Jarvis fly it behind me. Shoulda charged him e-ticket price for the sheer thrill, but I don’t think he appreciated the barrel roll over Saskatchewan-”  
  
“Breathe, Tony,” Bucky warned, narrowing his eyes. “When did we get a say in this? Is he going to be poking around like the rest of you?”  
  
Tony rolled his eyes. “We weren’t about to let him near you or Capsicle until we had a chance to talk to you. No need to do that until we were sure we could get him here, but Bucko-” Tony held up a hand and quickly adopted a more somber attitude. “Make no mistake here; we need him. He’s good at thinking outside the box and that’s a goddamned godsend because right now the box ain’t looking too promising.”  
  
“He can be trusted?” Bucky’s eyes snapped back to the virologist as he tried to absorb the unspoken implications of Tony’s words.  
  
“Well he’s an asshole, but who isn’t on some level?”  
  
“Tony.”  
  
“He had a level 92 government clearance,” Tony sighed with another dramatic roll of his eyes, “which probably means nothing to your thawed out brains, but it’s ridiculous. He checks out. He wouldn’t be here in this actual room if he didn’t. Bruce and Ella both have worked with him before.”  
  
Bucky stared at the doctor long and hard before turning his gaze back to Tony. “We need to get out and get some air. Steve needs his uniform back and a couple of weapons just to be safe.”  
  
“Oh is that all,” Tony snorted. “I can have some wine and caviar sent up for you too, if you’d like to take it with. You two can plop down in the middle of Times Square and have a fucking picnic since there’s no traffic because there’s no fucking people out there.”

“If there’s no people out, then there’s no problem, right?” Bucky asked sarcastically. “Steve needs to get out of here for just a little bit. He’s going stir crazy and no one wants that. The happier he stays, the better he does.”  
  
Tony’s face went completely serious. “You both agreed to containment. He might have cabin fever now, but how’s he gonna feel if something happens and he infects someone? It’s easy to blow that off because you’re both coherent and breathing. It’s a death sentence for anyone else.”  
  
“Tony, you don’t understand,” Bucky growled softly, glancing over his shoulder at Steve, who was watching them carefully. “He spent so much time unable to do anything as a kid. He missed out on so much and took so many knocks because of how sickly he was. He’s starting to feel useless again, and I can’t let that happen.”  
  
Tony’s jaw shifted as he looked between the two men. “This is such a bad idea,” he muttered.

“We’ll be careful and not take any risks, but he needs this,” Bucky promised, provoking another eyeroll from Tony.

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed. “Famous last words an’ all.” He twitched for a few seconds before waving his hand. 

“Two hours,” he muttered under his breath, poking a finger into Bucky’s face that he had to work hard to ignore. “If you are even one minute late, I’m coming after you both with the Hulk-buster. I am not above shooting you in the ass, Barnes.”  
  
“Huh, didn’t know you liked my ass,” Bucky smirked, then immediately wished he hadn’t because Tony was no longer in a joking mood. That was definitely a rarity. He gave Bucky such a sour stare that the ex-assassin almost flinched away from it.  
  
“I heard you. I got it. Two hours.”  
  
“Excuse me, did I hear you right? You’re going _outside_?”  
  
Bucky looked over in surprise as Marcase looked at them with wide eyes.  
  
“You heard right,” Bucky nodded. “Stevie?”  
  
“Are you insane? You’re _infected_! You can’t go back into general populace! You shouldn’t even be out of containment,” Marcase gaped. He looked to Bruce and Ella for backup. Ella pursed her lips, but remained silent. Bruce cleared his throat and shook his head slowly.  
  
“He’s right, Bucky. You both agreed to stay inside until we either cured you or got a vaccine distributed. Going outside is a really terrible idea.”  
  
“Do you understand how hard it is to be confined and doing nothing this long?” Bucky gritted back at them. “We’re losing our minds.” Granted, it was really only Steve having the issue, but Steve’s woe had always been his to share. They didn’t need to hear that though.  
  
“I do understand a little bit about that, yeah,” Bruce sighed, taking his glasses off to clean them. “Ultimately Tony’s got override on all of us with regard to locking this place down. He can let you out if he wants, but I can’t condone it at all.”  
  
“I’d rather not worry about repairs at the moment,” Tony bit caustically, leveling his eyes at Dr. Marcase. “You wanna try keeping two super soldiers inside against their will, knock yourself out… but that’s how it’ll end up… you… knocked out, and me with a shit-ton of damage for the trouble.”  
  
He gestured back over to Steve and Bucky. “By the way, do me a favor and zipline over a couple of buildings before you hit the street. Better yet, stay OFF the street, but don’t add to the congregation outside.”  
  
They frowned at Tony, not understanding until he waved his hands and showed them a holographic feed of the entrances to the building. Roughly thirty hissers loitered about aimlessly. He looked back at them, his hardened gaze belying his seeming passivity.  
  
“Not sure if the population is just booming, or there’s a specific reason why my building seems so tasty. I’m just saying, don’t wave the welcome flag. It takes me forever to clean the blood off my suit after I clear them out, and then more just show up the next day.”  
  
“Maybe we can figure out why,” Jarvis automatically translated for Steve. Tony immediately threw his hands up.  
  
“NO! Stay away from everyone and everything! Take your cuddly walk together then get back here and settle down.”  
  
Bucky glanced around the room then signed to Steve. **C’mon pal. Let’s take that walk before Junior changes his mind.**  
  
Steve followed his furtive gaze, and looked about to sign his concerns, but he ultimately chose to nod and lead the way out.  
  


\------------------------------------------------------  
  
The two stood close together, silently shell-shocked by what they saw on the street. They were almost a mile down from Stark Tower, and while there were a few hissers milling about the building’s perimeter, it was otherwise a relative ghost town. Here though…  
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
Steve’s face was pained as he placed his palm over Bucky’s mouth to signal for silence. He watched the mass of zombies moving around and looking far more alert to their surroundings. They weren’t just aimlessly walking. They seemed to be actively sniffing the air, almost systematically ruling out each nook and side street they passed. Bucky felt chills rippling along his skin despite the warmth of his uniform.  
  
 **They’re becoming hunters, not just opportunists.**  
  
Steve nodded, his expression a mask of pure apprehension. He leaned his head back and sighed softly.  
  
 **I wonder if Tony’s seen this or if he’s only been going to spots with heavier civilian numbers** , he mused. Beside him, Bucky shrugged carefully.  
  
 **Don’t know, Stevie**. He put his hand to the back of Steve’s neck for a moment before signing again. **I’m sorry, pal. I know we said two hours, but we should probably get back and make sure they know.**

Steve’s face was wistful as he nodded his agreement. They were about to fall back when they heard a terrified scream and the crash of metal in one of the alleyways. Bucky tensed and his eyes snapped immediately to Steve. The blond was already primed to move, so Bucky clapped his hand firmly onto Steve’s shoulder.  
  
“Don’t,” he hissed. “There’s too many, Steve!”  
  
Steve’s eyes were darting wildly as the man continued to scream. Bucky grimaced as Steve’s eyes suddenly brightened, then grew determined. He only had time to utter a soft curse before Steve was off and climbing the building to their right.  
  
“Motherfucker,” he swore, scaling the building behind Steve.   
  


\------------------------------------------------------  
  
The man wasn’t cornered, but he was panicking and really, who could blame him? These new model zombies were even more terrifying than the ones in LA, and why that would be the case only a few days later was the most troubling aspect. When they’d landed at the airport, the infected were still sluggish and uncoordinated. They didn’t seem to wander far from their points of origin unless drawn by a food source close within range of their sense of smell.

Not cornered, but being slowly corralled. That was a problem.  
  
Steve waited until the group was facing the right way, then dropped to the alley floor. He heard an immediate thud behind him as he placed himself between the zombies and the hysterical civilian. Knowing Bucky was right there with him, he bristled and prepared to get the civilian to safety. He would have told Bucky to get the guy out alone, but he knew Bucky would never go for it.  
  
“C’mon ya smelly bastards,” Bucky growled, but as he said it, Steve realized he couldn’t really smell them as he did before. They both should be ready to gag over the smell but the urge wasn’t there.  
  
Just as shocking, several of the zombies at the front of the pack began sniffing the air, then stopped abruptly. They continued to hiss and weave slightly in the air like tall grass, but they didn’t advance. Like a wave rolling back from the shore, the zombies all began to sniff at the air.  
  
“The fuck?” Bucky muttered as he kept his defensive stance. Steve shook his head, but was having trouble transferring his thoughts into words. Static was filling his brain, like white noise that was slowly gaining volume. He began to back up, one foot carefully behind the other and silently urging Bucky and the man away from the pack. If he could get them elevated or into an open spot, they could shoulder the guy and make a run for it.   
  
“Where the hell you guys been?” asked the civilian. Rather than answer directly, Bucky put his hand to the man’s chest and pushed him to keep moving. He kept a wary eye upon the zombies as they remained fixated upon Steve.

  
“What, you think you’re the only person stupid enough to venture out alone? Be easier to do more if you all would do your part and be responsible with your own safety, pal.”  
  
Steve should have given Bucky a warning look, but he wasn’t above snapping at people either so it seemed pretty hypocritical. Besides, he was starting to feel the first pangs of stomach cramps again. He didn’t understand why since he’d made sure to eat before they ventured out. A soft gasp behind him told him that Bucky was feeling echoes of his discomfort. They had to move faster. They had to get back before it all got dire.

\------------------------------------------------------

  
The lab doors swished open. Ella looked up from her slide and found herself smiling with a bit of hope. Sam Wilson was still in his flight suit and carrying a large manilla envelope. His eyes scanned the lab and paused when they landed upon Dr. Marcase.  
  
“Dr. Aubrey,” he greeted as he resumed his approach. She waved dismissively.  
  
“Please, Sam; just Ella. I’m not that stuffy.” She saw his questioning glance toward Marcase and turned slightly. “Sam, this is Dr. Edward Marcase. He’s a virologist that agreed to come help us find a cure for this thing. He’s already found a couple of interesting things that I missed, which was the whole point.”  
  
Sam held out his hand, and Marcase shook it firmly. “Sam Wilson.”  
  
“Hi, Sam,” Edward responded. His tone was as neutral as it got, though Sam wasn’t offended. He’d gotten used to that ‘wait-and-see’ type of reserve at the VA, both from the staff and the vets he dealt with. There were all kinds of reasons for some people to take longer to warm up, and some just never did. He didn’t bother wondering which type of person Marcase was. He’d find out eventually.  
  
“Sam is a close friend to Steve and James,” Ella supplied, and the other doctor’s eyes brightened.  
  
“That’s good,” he remarked. “They’re going to need a strong support system around them. This isn’t going to be easy on them.”  
  
Sam’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Ella. “Has something new come up?”  
  
“This virus is as bad as it gets,” Ella answered carefully. “Treatment for anything this severe can be really long and even painful, Sam. There’s no guarantee that the serum will spare either of them that, though it’ll likely be easier on James, for obvious reasons.”  
  
“James…” Sam frowned at that, having ignored it during his introduction to Dr. Marcase. “When did you start calling him James?”  
  
Realizing it veered into more private territory, Ella glanced at Edward. “You’ll call me back in when that’s done?” she asked, gesturing toward the desk.   
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
“Thanks.” She led Sam from the room and over to her makeshift desk. “He confronted me this morning. I’m not to call him Bucky anymore, and I need to stay away from him as much as possible.”  
  
“Ouch,” Sam winced. “He doesn’t even like that name. He only tolerates that from Natasha.”  
  
“Well, I’m very much persona non grata,” Ella answered. “Not that I’m disputing anything, but the Starbucks thing is annoying. I’m used to running on caffeine and drinking the normal shit is gross.”  
  
“Not following you,” Sam frowned, confused by the tangent.  
  
“He had Jarvis decline my requests for salted caramel fraps,” Ella smiled ruefully. “If I want one, I have to have someone else literally walk down to the 2nd floor to get one for me under their name. It’s such a pain in the ass. I’m gonna try to order it again, just to make him feel better, and then I’m just going to start using flavored creamer instead.”  
  
“He actually…” Sam crossed his arms and squared up sternly. “You don’t need to do that. He doesn’t need to pull that.”  
  
Ella immediately held up her hands. “I’m not playing a martyr card, Sam, and I don’t need you to take my side over his. I don’t WANT you to.”  
  
“I’m not,” Sam corrected with a shake of his head. “I’m worried about him doing that. It’s feeding into spiteful behaviour and it’s gonna do him more harm than good. He’s come a long way and I don’t want to see him sabotage himself.”  
  
“Okay, but don’t undo it though, the Starbucks thing. If it’s gonna happen, I’d rather it come from him.” When Sam responded with a silent nod, she smiled warmly. “You’re a good friend, Sam. They’re lucky to have you.”  
  
“Damn right,” Sam smirked. He held up the envelope. “Turns out, I’m amazing. You’re lucky too.”  
  
“Sam, thank you,” she sighed, obviously grateful. She took the envelope and pulled it open. Clearly recognizing the flash drives with her writing, she shook her head. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you. These are imperative. I’m so thankful that you got them from him.”

“Fury’s an ass, but not unreasonable. I don’t think he intended to keep them indefinitely, at least he said he didn’t.” He watched as she flipped through her notes, then remembered the additional item Fury gave him. “Oh, here… almost forgot this.”  
  
Ella squinted at the folded paper and took it. “What’s this…?”  
  
“Fury handed it over as I was leaving. Doesn’t mean anything to me, so I assumed you’d know.  
  
She unfolded the paper and frowned, but then her eyes grew wide and her hands started to shake. Sam put his hand against her forearm and leaned down slightly to catch her attention.  
  
“Hey, you okay?” He was knocked back a half step by Ella throwing her arms around his waist to hug him.  
  
“Oh my god, you’re not just amazing. You’re a fucking gift, Sam Wilson…” she sniffled against his chest. “Thank you.”  
  
“Oookay. For…?”  
  
Ella pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. She smiled and held the paper up.   
  
“Can you excuse me, Sam? I really need to make a call. Fury promised me he’d let me know about my friend and her son once I was here… I need to check on them.”  
  
“Sure thing,” Sam answered readily as he turned to go. “I’m gonna go do the same with the terror twins.”  
  
“Oh, they’re not here,” Ella called after him. “They went out.”  
  
“Say again?” Sam froze in his tracks and looked back at the biochemist.  
  
“Steve was getting cabin fever, so James convinced Tony to let them out for a couple of hours.”  
  
“And no one thought that was a bad idea?” Sam asked incredulously.  
  
“Of course we did,” Ella groaned, throwing her hands up. “Are you really going to tell me you think even Tony could keep them in here if they made up their minds? Me telling James to do anything would send him the opposite way doing mach five, so I stayed out of it.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When they due back?”  
  
Ella glanced over at the wall clock and blinked. “Oh,” she smiled, “I lost track of time. They should be back.”  
  
“Jarvis, Steve and Bucky back in their apartment?”  
  
“I’m afraid not, Sam. They are fifteen minutes overdue, and Sir is preparing to go after them as we speak.”  
  
“Aw shit,” Sam muttered. He waved to Ella and took off toward Tony’s quarters at a run. “Jarvis, tell ‘im I’m on my way up.”  
  
__________________________________________________

 

Edward walked quickly over to Ella's desk and folded his arms. She was chewing on her bottom lip with the phone number still clutched in her hand. Rather than acknowledge his obvious concern, she held out the envelope from Fury.  
  
"Here. It's the notes and data Sam went after for us. Better you just read it. See what you think."  
  
Marcase took the materials from her, but didn't look at them. "There's a problem with Rogers and Barnes?"  
  
"I hope not," Ella muttered.  
  
"But they're late."  
  
"Fifteen minutes," Ella snapped. "Don't come down on them just yet. They might have just had to detour or take a safer route back. Tony didn't want them bringing home strays."  
  
"I expressed my objection to them leaving at all. We all did... except for you," he frowned, his fingers tightening upon his arms. "Why didn't you back us up?"  
  
"Because me chiming in would do more harm than good," Ella sighed, rubbing her forehead as she rested her elbows onto her desk. "James is really angry about Fury faking my death and me not finding a way to clue them in. He has that right. I'm just trying not to antagonize him further."  
  
"You didn't tell Wilson about your findings yet either."  
  
"Because they haven't been verified by Bruce yet," Ella snapped again, "and because it's not my place to tell Sam anything before I tell Steve... and I'm not doing that until Bruce finishes going over what I just sent him."  
  
"You don't think they should at least be prepared?" he questioned quietly.  
  
"Not until I know if I'm even right," she answered, leaning back in her chair to rub at her burning eyes. "Steve's health is fragile and tied heavily to his state of mind. I'm not going to upset him until I know for sure there's a reason to. The stress could make him deteriorate faster."  
  
"Tell Barnes then."  
  
"They're exhibiting hive mind behaviors, Edward. If we're right, this will devastate James, and Steve could very well pick up on that, regardless of how well James tries to hide it. He's not entirely stable himself, so it could make him decline as well." She ran her hands over her loose ponytail.  
  
"I'm not gonna do anything until we hear back from Bruce. That's final. Now get out my face for a few minutes. I have a call to make."  
  
The last was roughly thrown at Edward, but they'd known each other long enough that she wasn't trying to be a jerk. Not really. Still, he held his hands aloft and took a step back.  
  
"Okay, but I think you're making a mistake, Ella."  
  
"No," she responded immediately, "I learned my lesson, Edward. I know exactly how this has to go this time. I know them, and how they are now. You're gonna have to trust me on this one. We just have to wait."  
  
Marcase threw his hands up further and went back to his station. Ella scowled and threw the paper down onto the desk. She couldn't call Jaiden right now. Not in the mood she was in. She just had to wait until she got her head back on straight. Wait while Edward reviewed her returned data. Wait while Bruce reviewed what she sent him.   
  
Wait and hope like hell that her fears were at least partially unfounded.


	10. “Mind the ice though, Rose.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Tony find the wayward soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Shaish for read-throughs and latenight brainstorming.  
> Snuggie, Shaish. SNUUUUHGGGIEEEEE.
> 
> Also, I was gifted a story, and y'all should seriously check it out. I'm very honored to be listed as an inspiring author to _anyone_ , nevermind someone so obviously talented in their own right. Please give it a read and definitely give it some love. It deserves it. All of it.  
> A Marine Called Bucky by piefight

Okay, so this had been a bad idea. 

They were now surrounded with their civilian panting in terror between them. The fact that Steve hadn’t turned on his modular to try to reassure the man was telling in a way that caused Bucky’s throat to tighten painfully. Even worse, his brain felt like it was trying to fuzz up like before. He knew what he wanted to tell Steve, but words were getting jumbled again. He was also having stomach cramps that were getting progressively worse. Those had to be coming from Steve again, but that didn’t make sense. He ate before they left the tower.

The zombies weren’t charging them. That didn’t make sense either. They just kept doing their weird, weaving thing. They seemed mesmerized by Steve. Not that Bucky would ever laugh at that; he suffered the same problem, but it didn’t normally turn him into a slobbering idiot.

Well, okay, maybe sometimes it did.

Bucky blinked hard and darted his eyes around the circle of hissers. His mind was straying too much. He opened his mouth to tell Steve to start moving, but Steve just did it as he was thinking it. They began edging their way carefully out of the alley. The hissers moved around them in lazy ebbs and surges. It reminded him of one of those lava lamps, the two bubbles bumping into one another, reluctant to merge.

Bucky wasn’t intending to give them a chance to finally do that.

“Why aren’t they attacking us?” the man stammered. “What are they doing?”

“Shhhut it,” Bucky muttered, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “Just… Just stay… between us.”

They moved until they had a brick wall to their backs, then kept working toward the street. Bucky had no idea what might happen if the hissers suddenly did attack them. He had no idea what would happen if they were bitten again. Would it even matter? He didn’t think so, but he also didn’t think they’d have any problems being outside for a short jaunt either.

It was driving him nuts that Steve wasn’t saying anything. He supposed it was because of the modulator, but he’d used it before in front of Bucky. Maybe it just wasn’t occurring to him, but normally Steve thought of practically everything in a skirmish.

Steve shot a quick look back at him, and Bucky froze, caught in the terror of seeing such a pronounced change in Steve’s eyes. His eyes were clouded with more of the green, and they looked glassy. He had to be moving on some sense of autopilot. 

No. He was relying upon Bucky, and was going by what he felt through the connection.

“Steve,” he pleaded softly as they finally reached the street, “words, pal. I... need to... hear you.”

Steve frowned at him, his eyes clearing just enough that he touched his modulator.

The stream of gibberish that came out broke Bucky’s heart. He would have screamed his anguish to the heavens if the civilian hadn’t chosen that moment to go into complete and utter meltdown.

“What is that? Why is he doing that?!” Before Bucky could latch onto him, the man bolted for the open street. The hissers at the back of the crowd immediately took off after him, and suddenly Steve was shoving past Bucky to go after him as well.

Then it all got really fucked up.

He’d anticipated Steve trying to protect the civilian man, and he did… but it wasn’t his usual Steve that threw himself into the mess of hissers. As Bucky came up behind Steve, his feet grew sluggish. He couldn’t make himself step forward as Steve dropped his shield and began ripping the hissers apart with his bare hands. That wasn’t the worst part though. Steve’s modulator continued to spew nonsensical phrases while he hissed and snarled. The zombies he hadn’t grabbed yet started to back away, returning to their strange weaving.

Too much was starting to make sense to Bucky. The hive mind connection that he naively thought only applied to them, didn’t. Steve had just asserted himself in some strange alpha way, and while the other zombies gave Bucky a wide berth, he was clearly still below Steve in the pecking order. He couldn’t move because Steve didn’t want him to. Whether that was conscious or not was anyone’s guess, but here Bucky stood, helpless to intervene and almost unable to cope with the noise.

When Steve finally tossed the last body part aside, Bucky felt the hold on him release. He still couldn’t move. As much as he wanted to rush forward and check on Steve, he realized he was also too afraid to do so. Steve turned a full circle to check his perimeter, then turned to look at the man. He took a step toward him, then took an almost panicked step back. He closed his eyes and shook his head sharply.

They hadn’t saved him. Bucky couldn’t feel bad for the man as much as for Steve. He would have certainly died without them there, but Steve would now struggle with not having been able to get him to safety. Worse yet, Steve seemed to be having to hold himself back from the man who was now shaking from the shock of his injuries. Once Bucky noticed how white Steve’s knuckles were as he clenched his fists, how his whole body was trembling, then he moved.

He knocked the zombies next to him aside and marched up to Steve. He raised his hand and pressed against Steve’s helmet to deactivate the modulator. The gibberish stopped, and it went blissfully quiet around them.

“Look away, Stevie,” Bucky murmured as he touched Steve’s jaw. This time the words were surprisingly easy to find. “Walk away.”

Steve’s eyes didn’t seem to comprehend his words, but he still turned away. Bucky felt a strange tug through his core when it happened. Steve had listened to Bucky, just not verbally. Bucky turned his attention to the man. He stepped closer, knowing his expression must be horrible, but unable to do anything about it. The man’s eyes grew wide, and he tried to speak, but his throat was too damaged to make anything but sickening choking sounds. 

“Close your eyes,” he ordered softly. The man still stared up at him with terrified eyes.

“Close your eyes an’ it’ll stop hurting,” he rasped. The man lay there, gurgling and now crying, but finally he closed his eyes. Bucky pulled his gun and pointed it at the man’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and, for the first time, closed his own eyes before he pulled the trigger.

The gurgling stopped.

___________________________

“See anything on Redwing?”

“Negative,” Sam grunted as he banked hard through yet another alley. “You sure the tracker’s still on him?”

“It’s literally _in_ his suit, Sam,” came back the annoyed reply. “Anastasia woulda seen it otherwise and probably woulda ripped it off along with half my face. Are we really sure he passed his anger management classes? Do we even-”

“Man, you really need to stop calling him that,” Sam cut in. “He’s got enough problems to deal with without you firing up his temper every time you open your mouth.”

“He loves me. He does. I give him great handjobs.”

Sam winced behind his mask. “I know what you’re actually talking about and that still turned my stomach. Stop it.”

“But he does love me,” Tony insisted.

“He loves Steve, and anyone else that thinks they come anything close to that is delusional, Tony.” He got an indignant huff in reply, but the comm remained otherwise silent.

“You know… even with a simple tracker…”

“Hush your democratic mouth, Sam Wilson. My trackers are phenomenal.”

“Yeah, but if they don’t wanna be found, we’re not gonna find them,” Sam sighed back. “We could be right on top of them, but they can hear us coming a mile away, and Bucky knows how to go to ground like nobody else I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony answered tightly, his tone sharper than usual, “but I’m the one that gave the green light. I gotta be the one to get them back safe, and hope that no major shitstorm happens before we find them.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna have a choice, here,” Sam muttered, taking one more swoop around the block. “I’m going down there.”

“No, I’ll go,” Tony answered quickly. “I’m all armor. They can’t hurt me.”

“And you gave me a reinforced suit for this very purpose,” Sam reminded him as he descended. “You’re like an elephant in that thing, Tony. Stealth ain’t your strong point. Just gain some altitude and help watch my perimeter.” 

“What, have we not had enough bad ideas today?”

“They could be confused again, Tony. He responded to my voice before. No reason to think it won’t help again, if that’s what’s going on,” Sam reasoned quietly.

“Unless Cap got a mouthful of human blood and took Barnes down with him.”

“I don’t… I just don’t think so,” Sam frowned as he scanned his surroundings, but Tony wasn’t ready to give up his musings yet.

“Or maybe just the opposite. Maybe super goth boyfriend got the itch for long pig. Cap’s like a damn golden retriever for him. _‘Try the beef, Stevie. You’ll love it! C’mon, Stevie, let’s drop half a building on our own heads!’ ‘Sure, Buck! Whatever you need, Buck! I heart you so much, Buck!’”_

“Damn, Stark, _shut the hell up,”_ Sam hissed. He would have rolled his eyes if it'd been safe to even blink.

“Fine, but Barnes and Noble will have my ass if anything happens to you… and that’s before Nat gets a hold of me. She’ll kill me again after they’ve already done it…. So don’t get dead down there. Remember you’ve got the zephyr with you.”

“Noted.” The comment warmed Sam for at least a second while he folded his wings, and not just over Tony's personal sentiment. He kept Redwing up, allowing the drone to be his second eyes so he wasn’t caught unawares. It continued to circle the block as he tried to zero in on the beacon. 

“Bucky…? Steve…? Sam Wilson. Just tryin’ to make sure you two are okay.” He kept his voice low, knowing they’d hear it with no problems. He inched down the alley, his night vision engaged and trained upon every little nook. His infrared had stopped working on the way back from Fury’s place, and he really wished there’d been time to grab replacement goggles before leaving.

A long, strong hiss made chills run the length of his body.

“Steve…? C’mon, man, it’s Sam. Tony put a tracker on you, so I know you’re both here somewhere. We’re not mad about you missing curfew. Just worried. C’mon out.”

He reached two dumpsters that were at odd angles to the building, and realized why as he heard metal upon metal. In an eerie turn of deja vu, he stepped forward just enough to see between the dumpsters, and found himself on the wrong side of Barnes’ Sig Sauer.

God, not again.

Sam was pretty sure he’d never get used to having what they referred to as ‘Winter’s Stare’ leveled at him. Steve would fly into one hell of a snit if he ever overheard one of them use that term, but Sam had never seen any man’s eyes go that cold before.

“Bucky…?”

Barnes’ eyes changed when Sam called his name. They widened with fear.

“Ssstay back, Sssam.” Steve was curled in on himself, and Bucky was curled over him, keeping the silver stripes on his shoulders and back better hidden from view.

“Okay, at least you’re… more you, this time. No need for the gun though-” Sam halted his cautious steps as Bucky pointedly cocked the sidearm.

“Hey, man… You’re a little confused again, I think. You don’t need to point that at me. I’ll stay back if you’re saying I need to.” He didn’t like the silence from Steve, or the shaking he detected.

“Is Steve-”

“Confused,” Bucky answered harshly, and Steve flinched. Bucky put his hand back to Steve’s nape.

“Okay, can we get him outta here? Back to the tower? I can give him a lift if-”

“NO!” The bark wasn’t angry; it was horrified. 

“Talk to me, Bucky,” Sam requested calmly. “Tell me what you two need.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut for a couple of seconds, then refocused upon Sam. In his comm, Tony’s voice came through with unsettling seriousness.

“Sam. Got a dead body… or what’s left of it. Jarvis says shell casing near the skull is Barnes’, and the guy hasn’t been dead long. Thirty minutes tops. There’s a horde moving away from it, headed your direction. Wrap this up, Sam.”

“Copy,” Sam answered succinctly.

“Tony…?”

“Yep,” Sam answered quickly. “Tell me, Bucky.”

“You… ccan’t take Steve… Not enough…” He frowned as the word escaped him.

“Armor?” Sam supplied, and Bucky nodded. “Tower… ccontainment suite… Nothing else, Sam.”

“Okay, I’ll take you. Tony can take Steve. We gotta go though. Now.”

“Truust me,” Bucky frowned again.

“I trust you, Bucky. It’s okay.” He touched his comm to engage it again. “Tony, Cap needs a lift. He’s confused again, so might be a little volatile.”

“Copy that,” Tony clipped back, and Sam heard him approaching. “Have Barnes carry the shield. Gonna use his harness and belt to carry him.”

“Okay, Bucky, Tony’s gonna take Steve back. I’ll give you a lift… Green?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth, indecisive about something. His mouth opened, but Tony appeared above them and he clamped his lips shut again. Sam decided to let it ride for the moment.

Tony flipped his mask up. “Horde’s getting closer. Gotta go, my lil pumpkins.”

Bucky turned his attention to Steve, stroking his back and then his jaw.

“Stevie… Tony, remember? Let him… take you back… to the tower.”

Tony’s eyes shot to Sam’s as Steve hissed long and low in reply. Bucky seemed unfazed by it.

“C’mon Steve. I know it hurts. Just… gotta get to the tower.”

He pulled Steve to his feet, but both men stayed slightly hunched. Sam narrowed his eyes. Seeing the look, Bucky blinked and winced slightly.

“Cramping back,” he explained.

Sam nodded, but didn’t ask questions. There’d be time for that back at the tower. He tried to ignore the way Steve’s eyes fixed upon him, and how rigid he held himself.

“Give Ana- Bucky your shield, Cap.”

“He won’t… He won’t hurt you,” Bucky insisted.

“But he might panic again,” Tony explained calmly, “and if he knocks us off course, and we slam into a building, that’d be bad. Okay?”

Tony flipped his faceplate back into place and waited. Redwing signaled a proximity alert to Sam, so he gestured to Tony.

“C’mon, Buck,” he urged quietly.

“Go with Tony,” Bucky in turn urged Steve. “Be right behind you, okay?”

Redwing zipped into view and settled itself back into Sam’s shoulder catch as Bucky carefully stepped away from Steve. Before Steve could fully give any signs of protest, Tony latched onto his harness and belt, and lifted off. Sam watched Steve struggle initially, then he seemed to go limp. At that moment, Bucky doubled over in pain.

And then the horde appeared.

“Shit,” Sam swore as they sniffed the air, focused upon him and Bucky, then charged. 

“Tony, zephyr!” Sam grabbed a small puck-shaped device from his belt and flicked it toward the horde. It sailed down the alleyway and landed just shy of them. Bucky had just weakly wrapped his fingers around the edge of the shield when Sam grabbed him and lifted off. Two seconds later, a small missile came out of nowhere and exploded where the puck landed. The uncomfortable feeling of scorching heat blasting past them made Sam push his jets just a little harder as he spiraled them upward.

“How are you even heavier than Steve,” he griped, hoping a little banter would pull Bucky back to himself like before.

“Arm,” Bucky muttered, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

“Thought Stark was gonna make ya a new one?”

“Don’t want... anesthesia,” came the weak reply, and he seemed to be doing worse the longer they flew. 

Thankfully they were close to the tower, because Bucky was slowly going deadweight on him. Sam was a strong, fit guy, but carrying two-hundred plus pounds of bulky sniper plus his gear was anything but easy. He was also running low on fuel, which was making him sweat a little. He hadn’t had time to refuel his pack before taking off after Tony. 

“Bucky, stay with me,” Sam gritted, trying to adjust his grip upon Bucky’s harness. “Cramps getting worse, man? Talk to me.”

“Hate… heights.”

“Things to disclose before I pick your heavy ass up,” Sam griped, but he did drop altitude. In a few blocks he’d have to veer hard upward, but then it was a straight ascent to the top of the tower.

“Hang in there, buddy. Almost there.”

Bucky fell completely limp, the shield held only by the locking of his metal fingers.

___________________________

 

He came to with people hovering over him. His fist shot out automatically, but Sam had excellent reflexes, thank god. He dodged Bucky’s arm, but was immediately back into Bucky’s line of sight.

“Easy, Bucky! You’re safe, man.”

The parts of Bucky that weren’t pure instinct began to come back online as Sam spoke to him. 

Fabric wadded inside his palm. He looked to his right. Marcase’s expression was rigid as he tried not to overreact to Bucky having a handful of his shirt. Good thing Bucky didn’t launch him like a handler; Steve needed this guy.

Pressure upon his thigh. His eyes shifted down to where Ella was crouched next to his legs. She had one hand on him, gently squeezing. At her side, her other hand held an auto-injector at the ready. Good girl, even if he’d never admit that aloud. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt any of them, but sometimes his reflexes kicked in before anything else could catch up.

“That’s it. Take in the details. Put it all in place,” Sam prompted quietly. “Get your bearings.”

“Where…?”

“You’re in the tower, on the roof. Sorry, man, but you’re just too heavy for me to drag anywhere. Knew you wouldn’t like it anyway.”

Sam was right. He had no desire to be a damsel now that he’d reached a certain level of ‘okay’ inside his head. It had nothing to do with pride, either. He’d worked damn hard to get to where he was now. He’d be damned if he’d let anything fuck it up, including himself. Especially himself.

“Steve-”

“Containment suite,” Sam answered, clearly anticipating that question. “He was unconscious like you. Probably for the best considering the alternative. Tony and Bruce are monitoring him, but I’m guessing you’ll wanna get down there to check on him yourself.”

Bucky nodded and realized he was still clutching Marcase’s shirt. He slowly relaxed his fist, and his fingers started to tingle from the return of blood past his knuckles. The doctor made a show of slowly moving away with no threatening moves. Bucky appreciated it, but it was unnecessary. He was stabilized now.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Chemical smell… sets me off.”

“Understood,” Marcase acknowledged, looking far more relieved. Bucky figured he was more concerned by being bitten than anything else. His build was taller than Bucky, and his mannerisms pointed too much toward military training to think he couldn’t defend himself. This guy wasn’t stupid though, and even the dumbest asshole never wanted to tangle with Bucky’s arm. Rumlow had been terrified of it before Steve put him in the ground.

Crossbones. What a stupid fucking moniker.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked, subtlely jutting his elbow outward. Bucky held up his hand instead, and Sam clasped it to haul him to his feet. He didn’t sway. He was solid upon his feet, but he still felt the lingering echoes of soreness in his gut.

“Will you tell me what happened out there, James?” Ella scanned his eyes, wary of his anger still. “Will you tell _us?”_

He had to suppress the urge to glower down at her. It was information they needed if they were going to beat this virus.

“Hive mind,” he choked out, his tongue still sluggish. “Steve… He’s like… some sort of alpha. They won’t touch ‘im… or me while he’s there. They just… stand there… like they’re in awe of him… or something. He was uh… responding to what I needed him to do… without me sayin’ it.”

Ella’s eyes were widening more as he told her. He had to turn away and focus upon Sam to keep going.

“The body… he was tryin’ to protect him. We both were… but he bolted. They attacked. Steve tore ‘em all apart… and the others backed off. I… shot him. Didn’t want ‘im to turn.”

Sam motioned that he understood that it’d been necessary, so Bucky continued.

“When he was… trying to help the guy… I couldn’t move. Steve didn’t want me to… so I couldn’t. I understood he didn’t... want me to get in the middle of it. It… It all made sense then… Don’t know that it does now.”

“Did Steve say anything about it before Sam got there?” 

Bucky caught a whiff of Ella as she questioned him. Her hand gestured upward and it carried the scent of something. Shampoo. Perfume. Soap. He wasn’t really sure, but there was something warm traveling along beneath the flowery smells. He wanted to nuzzle into her neck and take a deeper breath. He took a step back from her as the urge welled up. He didn’t want to bite her, but he was coherent enough to know that suddenly going anywhere near her neck would scare the shit out of her. He’d already pulled that. Beyond that, he had no desire to be tranqued. 

And Steve would need him when he woke up.

“He didn’t say… anything. Couldn’t. Turned on his ear thing… just scrambled up words.”

Ella looked over at Marcase, but Sam spoke up before either of them could express their thoughts.

“Bucky was having trouble when I found them in LA, but he pulled out of it. He’s having trouble again now, but it’s already improving from how he was when Tony and I got there. No reason to think Steve won’t come back around too. Right?”

Ella’s eyes flicked to Sam, then to Bucky. She chewed at the inside of her cheek before answering rather carefully.

“Yeah. It’s possible. We’ll know more when he wakes up. Jarvis already ran scans since he’s out. We just have to wait and see.”

“Dr. Aubrey, Captain Rogers is beginning to show signs of regaining consciousness.”

Bucky didn’t ask for permission to leave.

______________________________________

 

Tony was still in most of his suit when Bucky came down the hall, all purpose and intent. Bruce stood beside him, watching the monitor on the outside of the suite. Tony held up his gauntlet toward Bucky, only to get a growl in return. 

“Easy, okay? We’re not sure it’s a good idea to have you in there with him yet,” Bruce explained softly. “It might make him worse, the hive mind effect.”

“You’re not keeping me outta that room.” Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave Tony as he sized up the suit and the quickest way he could possibly disable it.

“Barnes, just listen for a minute-”

“No. Move.”

Tony turned square to face Bucky, and the soldier tensed. He took a pointed step back, but not a large one, and tried a different tact with Bucky. The pull of Steve in the other room wasn’t just hive mind. It was years of having a person that he knew made his heart whole, and too many years without that person. No more forced separations. No more anything outside of what they chose for themselves together. Rage began to simmer beneath Bucky’s skin and inside his gut as Tony held up his hands pleadingly.

“Look Anastasia-”

“Don’t fucking _call me that!”_ he screamed at Tony, leaving him too stunned to react in time. Bucky’s left arm shot out and latched onto Tony’s wrist as he knocked the other aside with his right. The servos in his arm whined hot as he gave them full power, ripping Tony’s gauntlet away from the rest of the suit. Bucky’s fingers curled into the now empty wrist, crumpling the metal beneath his own.

“I’m fucking _American!_ I was _born here!_ I fought for this country! I gave up _everything_ for it! No more Russian! I fucking _hate_ it!”

Bucky pointed at Tony, bringing his voice back down as he fought to breathe through his nose to calm himself.

“Move… or I’ll move you myself.”

Tony pursed his lips, determined to stare Bucky down before Bruce put a firm hand to his uncovered forearm. He visibly relaxed after obviously weighing his options, and stepped back. 

“Fine. Give Jack my regards. The rest of us’ll be out here tending the ship.” He looked down at the mangled glove still clutched within Bucky’s grip, then pierced Bucky with a cold, steely glare.

“Mind the ice though, _Rose.”_

Anger surging through him again, Bucky hurled the ruined gauntlet aside, leaving a marred space upon the opposite wall where it hit. He returned the glare, then pushed past Tony. He hovered his flesh hand over the entry lock, but not before giving Bruce an almost apologetic side glance.

The lock gave with a soft click, and Bucky quickly entered the containment suite, hurriedly shutting the door behind him. His knees nearly gave out as he caught Steve’s scent. He barely registered the louder clicks of the extra bolts engaging. They were back to being on restricted lockdown again, but Bucky couldn’t give two fucks at the moment. The only thing that mattered was the blond man laying on the couch. He was still asleep but, as Jarvis said earlier, that would be changing soon. He could already feel the embers heating up along his spine and inside his chest.

It occurred to him that Steve was covered in blood. Strange that the sight of it hadn’t really registered until now. The asset had been so desensitized to blood, but Bucky… he didn’t welcome the discomfort the sight of blood brought on, but it _did_ mean he was a human being again. It bothered him that it hadn’t immediately occurred to him to clean Steve up before he regained consciousness. It would be bad enough when Steve woke up, what with his penchant for noble guilt, but to wake up doused in blood and zombie guts..? Nope. Couldn't let it happen.

That made his objective clear, so he set about getting Steve’s uniform off of him. Once he got started, he really began to hope he could finish completely before Steve roused. He shoved Steve’s uniform into the delivery lock, then jogged to the bathroom for some wet towels. There were bits of gore over Steve’s cheek, and in his hair where it managed to get under the edges of the helmet. There was some sort of fabric drop cloth under Steve, but Bucky planned on carrying him to the bedroom. Anything that seeped onto the couch could be taken care of by Junior’s staff while he cared for Steve.

Bucky only caught the flash of awareness a few seconds before he walked back into the living room. He very nearly dropped the two towels he held.

Waking up naked and disoriented made you feel extremely vulnerable, something that Bucky was painfully aware of, so he had left Steve in his underwear and undershirt. Except Steve didn’t look vulnerable in any way, shape, or form as he stood by the couch and stared Bucky down. He looked powerful. Calm. Deadly.

This was what Steve would have looked like as an asset. Self-assured and silently waiting to make his move. Chills ran along Bucky’s skin. He would never allow anything like that to happen to Steve.

“Hey,” he called quietly. “How ya feelin’ punk?”

Steve held his gaze and didn’t move.

“Stevie?” Bucky took a few careful steps forward. The cloudy green in Steve’s eyes had mostly receded back to how they’d been earlier, but his lack of reaction set off warning bells in Bucky’s mind. He forced his mind to clear, wanting to be open to Steve. That’s when Bucky felt how wrong he’d been. Steve wasn’t calm at all. Beneath the stillness was a maelstrom waiting for the first opening it found. There was something specific there, something that Bucky couldn’t quite identify past the whirlwind of Steve’s emotions buffeting him. 

Bucky took a step backward.

Steve took one forward.

“Okay… I… I need you to talk to me, Stevie. What’s going on, kid?” he asked as he backed around the couch.

Steve followed, his chin lowered, his eyes piercing, and his movements predatory.

Bucky wrapped a towel around each hand as he thought about the layout of the room. They were locked in tight now, so neither of them was going anywhere for a while. Bucky could use anything as a weapon, towels included, and he was well aware that he might actually have to come to blows with Steve. At least with towels he was less likely to do any real damage to Steve, or himself.

“Steve,” he frowned, putting more force behind his voice, “need you to stop... pay attention. C’mon you little asshole, focus.”

The only response he got was Steve knocking an arm chair aside when Bucky shoved it between them. Wearing Steve down wasn't really a feasible option, but he needed to buy time to think.

“Barnes, do I need to come in there?”

Steve instantly tensed and sniffed the air as Tony’s voice came over the intercom. Of course they'd still be monitoring them.

“No,” Bucky replied as calmly as he could as he kept his eyes riveted to Steve.

“He’s _stalking_ you, Barnes.”

“Let me handle this!” He pushed various pieces of furniture in the way of Steve’s path, only to have it shoved or thrown aside. “Jarvis, kill the ‘com... and the monitor... It’s not helping.”

“Yes, Bucky.”

Steve snarled at the AI’s voice, his demeanor growing more tightly wound with each methodical step. He was trying to corral Bucky, but the brunet vaulted over the loveseat to keep it from happening. Stuffing erupted from the neck cushion when Steve gripped it to shove it out of his way. The sparse curtain of fluff that fluttered to the ground looked like snow, and Bucky almost gave a hysterical laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation.

It would be easier if he could just pinpoint what it was that he was feeling.

But what was the saying? Be careful what you wish for?

Bucky realized what the stealthy feeling radiating from Steve was a split second before Steve charged across the room.


	11. "Damn it, Steve... Come back to me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve work through the aftermath, and Bucky makes a horrible realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read [Muskellunge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4530714) yet, please do before reading Chapter 11. It figures heavily into this chapter, and a lot of the emotional impact will be lost if you don't read it first. :)  
> Edit to add: Somehow this link got all weird but it's fixed now! Sorry kiddos!
> 
> Warning: The first scene of this chapter could fall into the dubious consent warning.

The air exploded from Bucky’s lungs as his back hit the wall. It didn’t hurt, not really. Bucky wasn’t some delicate flower, but if Steve really wanted to hurt him, he’d be hurting.   
  
Thing was though… Steve _wasn't_ trying to hurt him.   
  
The impetus behind Steve’s behavior hit Bucky just before he’d charged, and it was not intent to harm, or even pre-emptive self-defense. This was… complicated. Steve was… Well if Steve hadn’t been obviously hard before he came at Bucky, he was now… Now, as he pressed his face into Bucky’s neck and _inhaled_. Bucky skimmed his hands down Steve’s sides, and rested his grip upon Steve’s hips, but all that did was set off a slow, deliberate rutting motion against Bucky’s stomach. Bucky gasped and tried to wriggle away, earning him a surge of challenge through their connection and a low hiss. He thunked his head back to the wall and closed his eyes to collect his thoughts.   
  
His body was having no dilemma; there would never be a time he didn’t want Steve, and his baser impulses were responding as such. Problem was, Steve wasn’t fully with it at the moment, and Bucky would rather have him wholly there if they were going to have a go at each other. With Steve not talking, it was difficult to know how aware he was.   
  
“Steve… Stevie wait…”   
  
His answer was Steve biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Bucky hissed as his cock took an instant interest. He sagged and groaned as Steve licked the tiny trickle of blood away. It was barely anything, but a soft surge of static filled his ears, and he felt dizzy for a moment. His reaction seemed to spur something on in Steve, who pressed closer and bit into his shoulder, then licked again. Bucky’s knees were going soft, but Steve’s body kept him from slipping.   
  
“Steve, we have to… You gotta tell me you’re… in there…”   
  
Steve pulled back and looked directly at him. Bucky’s mouth went bone dry as Steve’s eyes traveled down the length of his body, then came back upward to his jacket. He hooked his hand under several of the chest straps and yanked. Half of them came free with more force than necessary, ruining two of the snaps. Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrists before he could wreck the rest.   
  
“Damn it, Steve,” Bucky growled, trying so desperately to get through to his confused boyfriend, “Look at me. Come back to me.”   
  
Blinking slowly at him, Steve seemed as though he was trying to wade through the noise in his head. Bucky was having a hard time keeping the strange white noise at bay himself, and he knew he wasn’t nearly as immersed in it as Steve was.   
  
“Focus, Stevie,” he whispered. He went back to the times where he sat by Steve’s bed and read to him, or just held his hand through a bad fever. Hoping it would work, he released one of Steve’s wrists to run his fingertips over Steve’s brow. He was sweating a bit, though Bucky wasn’t sure if that was from the virus or just being so aroused. Steve leaned into his touch, rubbing his face against Bucky’s palm and breathing deeply.   
  
Maybe it wasn’t the best choice.   
  
When Steve’s eyes re-opened, focused directly upon Bucky’s, the sheer, feral lust behind them was breathtaking. Bucky almost hiccuped as his air caught in his throat.   
  
“Steve… no…”   
  
The next he knew, Steve had lifted him and was carrying him toward the couch. When he’d said to focus, this wasn’t what he’d meant, and the sight of the bloodied couch cover had him squirming to halt Steve’s direction.   
  
“No, not the… Steve, it’s bloody and it’s-”   
  
Steve dropped him onto the couch and quickly covered Bucky’s body with his own.   
  
“-fucking gross,” Bucky groaned as Steve began to suckle at his neck again. It would be so much easier if his dick would just stand down, but it was too impressed with the way Steve was writhing against him.   
  
The rest of the snaps on his jacket were unfastened, and Steve curled his fingers into Bucky’s shirt and ripped it open.   
  
“Nice,” Bucky sighed, but the word turned into a sharp inhale when Steve fastened his lips over one of his nipples. He let his head fall back as Steve began to pepper his chest with hickies and bites, still trying to see a path to his rational Steve.   
  
The belt was the next casualty. The sound of the buckle being ripped from the leather snapped Bucky back into focus, and he huffed a bit in annoyance even as his dick ached to be touched.   
  
“Can ya not… kill my entire uniform, Steve?” he rasped, trying to keep his hips from jerking upward as Steve yanked his fly open.   
  
It was at the point now where Bucky had to make a decision. He could toss Steve off of him, but there was no way to know how Steve would react. He might regain some of his senses, or he could become more aggressive. He could lock himself inside the bathroom and wait until Stark’s people delivered some meat through the lock. Maybe the confusion would pass after another meal. If Steve actually ate it. Would this urge override the temptation of food?   
  
Then the alternative. What if he just allowed Steve to do what he needed to do? Trying to fight Steve off, or attempting to restrain him could get them both hurt. The end result would mean a whole lot of guilt weighing Steve down. Bucky needed to keep Steve’s spirits as up as they could manage given the circumstances. He was back to caring for Steve again, and while that could be as instinctive as breathing most days, it also left him feeling at a loss sometimes. Steve was not a frail kid anymore, and Bucky was not the optimistic, happy-go-lucky kid he used to be. He’d look after Steve as best he could, but he was also acutely aware of how much he needed Steve to be his solid touchstone in return.   
  
So he wasn’t about to deny Steve, but they were damn well getting off this disgusting couch.   
  
He shoved Steve off, and moved fast to roll himself off the couch and to his feet. Steve was primed to come at him again when he held up his hand. Steve paused, confused by Bucky’s gesture, but Bucky knew it wouldn’t hold him back more than a few breaths. He reached for his zipper and pulled it the rest of the way down, as he slowly backed toward their bedroom. Steve’s eyes lowered to Bucky’s hand, tracking its tantalizing movement. His chin lowered and a noise rolled from his chest that wasn’t quite a hiss, and sounded more like a guttural vocalization of approval. He began to follow Bucky, matching his pace.   
  
Bucky felt ridiculous with his uniform half ripped apart, but a smaller corner of his brain was reveling in the way Steve’s entire focus was zeroed in on him. He just needed to get them over this bump, and then see what the morning would bring after Steve had a good, fucked-out nap. He knew Steve was going to feel guilty about Bucking submitting to him like this, but he’d feel worse if he woke up to both of them healing from beating the shit out of each other. The idea of a little rough sex wasn’t something that bothered Bucky at all. This was still Steve, and he would fight for Steve to fully return to himself in any way that he had to.   
  
_____________________________________   
  
His primary objective was watch and memorize.

  
He was to avoid detection at any cost.   
  
This guy was labeled as extremely volatile and dangerous, but he wasn’t seeing any of that.   
  
No. This was Steve. _His Steve._  
  
He needed to get closer, but his directives were clear.   
  
_It’s Steve. Fuck the directives!  
_   
If his directive fell through, he was to disable and apprehend his target.   
  
_He’s not a target! He’s Steve._   
  
If it all fell apart, he was to kill the target.   
  
No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He didn’t have to listen to them anymore. His handlers were all dead now.   
  
They’d only called him Rogers, but he knew this man as Steve as surely as he knew his name was…   
  
Bucky. He was Bucky. He was good now. He was strong, and good, and he lived in the glow of Steve’s sunlight now. No more shadows. No more watching from afar.   
  
No more watching Steve mourn him. Attempting to fish.   
  
_Really, Steve? You hated fishing. You swore like a sailor in front of my uncle when I tried to make that muskellunge kiss your cheek. You nearly tipped us all out of the boat. What are you even thinking?_   
  
_No, Steve, pick the pencil back up. Draw one line, then another, and another… Smudge the lead with your finger… C’mon, Stevie. This shit is like breathing to you. Stop sulking. I’m here and you don’t need to look so sad._  
  
_What are you even doing? You’re supposed to jog, not half kill yourself! Ugh, you and couches. Get up, Steve. Take a shower. Go to bed. It’ll be better in the morning. You always felt better in the morning…_

  
He couldn’t watch anymore. He had to talk to Steve. Talk some sense into him. This was ridiculous. He was allowed to do that now. He could talk, and yell, and smile, and… love. Love, and touch, and kiss, and nuzzle…   
  
He dropped down from the tree and walked straight up to the cabin, his steps sure and determined. The crunch under his boots didn’t even alarm him. He only paused at the door when he heard glass shattering. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but then he gripped it, turned it, and swung the door open.   
  
Steve was there, near the fireplace. His back was to the door.   
  
He eased inside, leaving the door to hang open. It wasn’t cold anyway. A fire raged in the hearth, but he didn’t feel that either. The only temperature he felt was his own as his rapid, fluttering pulse fed heat throughout his body.   
  
“Steve,” he called softly. “I’m here… I’m home.”   
  
A soft glow formed about Steve’s head as he turned, the blond strands of his hair catching the fire’s illumination just right. His eyes looked darker in the low light, but no less warm. Just then they were wide with disbelief.   
  
“Bucky?”   
  
“Yeah, Stevie. It’s me,” he smiled shyly, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Steve dropped the cracked picture frame in his hand and rushed forward, stopping just short of Bucky. His smile grew as Steve reached out as though to touched Bucky’s hair, and he closed his eyes when Steve seemed afraid to follow through. He leaned forward, sighing when his forehead met gentle fingertips.   
  
“Bucky, I can’t believe it’s you,” Steve breathed. “How are you alive? How are you here?”   
  
His heart warmed as Steve took his face between his hands and leaned in as though to kiss him, but then it sank into his gut as Steve looked as if he’d made a terrible mistake, and took a step back.   
  
“I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean- I guess I just got overwhelmed.”   
  
Relief flowed over him as he realized that Steve was confused again. That was okay. He could explain it all in detail later. Right now he wanted Steve’s touch back on him.   
  
“A lot happened, Stevie,” he began, reaching for Steve’s hands and holding them back against his jawline. “You got sick, and you forgot a few things. It’s okay though. _This_ is okay now. We… we’re together. We’ve _been_ together for a little while now… You can touch me however you wanna, Steve. I’m yours. You’re mine.”   
  
“You’re sure…?” Steve looked alarmed at the thought, his eyes darting about the cabin. When he nodded slowly and pointedly turned his face to kiss Steve’s palm, the blond gave a stuttering gasp. His heart picked up its pace to a gallop as Steve stared at him, wonder filling his eyes until the blond finally dipped his chin to kiss Bucky. It was chaste and sweet and he loved it, but he also ached for the return of Steve’s memory. Still, here was his Stevie, vibrant and beautifully alive. No virus polluting his eyes or stealing his voice.   
  
“So happy you’re better, Steve,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. He whined softly as Steve pulled back to look at him quizzically.   
  
“It’s a long story, but… your eyes changed, and your voice was gone. I’m so happy to hear your voice again.”   
  
Steve’s eyes gained a bit of smolder behind them, causing heat to pool in his gut as those eyes roved over his body. He couldn’t help but break into a soft grin when Steve tugged lightly at his hair.   
  
“It’s so long,” Steve marveled. “I like it.”   
  
“Yeah?” he asked, feeling oddly shy again. “I uh… I thought about cutting it…”   
  
More simmering heat rose up into Steve’s eyes, as he dragged his fingertips up Bucky’s neck and tangled his fingers into the hair at his nape.   
  
“If you cut it, I couldn’t do this…” Steve yanked Bucky’s head back, drawing out a startled gasp from him. He began to harden from the way Steve was looking at him.   
  
“I might rethink that-” he gasped as Steve nosed along his neck. He held perfectly still as Steve pressed his lips close to Bucky’s ear.   
  
“Doesn’t matter. I’m done with you, Bucky…”   
  
His veins chilled as his drawn-out name on Steve’s lips turned into an ominous hiss. Gooseflesh prickled across his skin as Steve began to laugh. Not the gentle, high-pitched chuckle he loved, but the awful, popping sound from Steve’s throat.   
  
Steve roughly shoved him away, and he shuddered in dismay as Steve’s eyes began to glaze and cloud over with the green tinge of the virus. Even worse, a metallic glint caught his attention, and he watched in horror as metal plates cascaded down along Steve’s arm. The ring of metal-upon-metal went straight through him as the plates snapped together. Dark circles began to form around Steve’s eyes, and they gradually smeared and shifted until Bucky recognized the camouflage face paint he favored.   
  
“No! Not that! Not you!”   
  
Steve’s mouth curled into a cruel smirk as he stood motionless before Bucky. The soft sweater Steve wore was hardening into blackened leather, and Bucky shook his head wildly. He couldn’t even defend himself when Steve backhanded him with the metal arm. He rolled to his knees and spit blood onto the wood flooring.   
  
“Steve! You listen to me! They can’t have you! You fight this!”   
  
The tread of Steve’s boots echoed loudly in the room as he came at Bucky. He grabbed Bucky and hoisted him into the air by his throat. The sound of metal clanging was sickening as Bucky’s fingers closed over Steve’s wrist.   
  
“You stay with me, Steve,” he gasped, getting what words out that he could past the fist slowly closing to cut off his air. “Stay with me! Don’t you leave me, punk! Steve!”   
  
____________________________________   
  
Bucky jarred awake as hands frantically shook his shoulders. He immediately fought back, flinging his attacker aside and launching himself from the bed. He didn’t quite make it across the bedroom before he was tackled. He struggled as strong arms closed around him, and the person’s full body weight centered itself onto his back. Rather than trying to choke him out though, the arms simply held him still. He lay there panting heavily as he waited for an opening to break the hold. A warm cheek slowly pressed against his, and Bucky blinked rapidly as his brain struggled to catch up. Remembering his therapy, he began cataloguing his surroundings rapid-fire.   
  
Cooler temperature: Not the cabin.   
No chemical smells: Not the bank vault.   
Naked: No deductive value as of yet.   
Plush carpet against his front: Owner well-off.   
Bare skin against his back: Not a HYDRA base.   
Assailant strong enough to pin him: Not Pierce.   
  
_Not_ a HYDRA base.  
_Not_ the vault.  
_Not_ Pierce’s home.   
_Not_ a handler.   
  
His mind flickered, then finally wound down as he concluded where he actually was.   
  
“Steve,” he whispered, his voice weak and flat with relief. The man pinning him placed a tender kiss to his temple, then began to slowly loosen his hold upon Bucky. The gradual release was far more grounding than Steve suddenly relinquishing his hold. Each of Bucky’s muscles systematically relaxed in conjunction with Steve’s, until Steve was laying on his side and slowly caressing his fingertips over Bucky’s forearm.   
  
“Are you… you again?” Bucky asked, his throat raw from yelling. Steve’s expression was filled with pain as he nodded. Rather than say anything though, he ran his fingertips lightly over Bucky’s skin. Over every fading bite mark and bruise.   
  
“Don’t,” Bucky grunted, but grabbed Steve’s hand to keep him from pulling away. He scooted closer to Steve and pulled the blond’s arms around himself as he curled into his chest.   
  
“I don’t want you feelin’ guilty, Steve. You didn’t hurt me. We’re just fine.”   
  
The arms about him tightened, but then one pulled away for a moment. Bucky’s ears detected the almost inaudible electronic whine of Steve’s voice modulator.   
  
“I don’t remember, but this doesn’t look fine,” it translated as Steve’s fingers brushed over the still-dark bruises at Bucky’s hips. Bucky never thought he’d be happy to hear the modulator, but he couldn’t express the relief he felt over hearing coherent phrases coming from it.   
  
“You didn’t hurt me, Steve,” he repeated. “I could have stopped you if I wanted to.”   
  
“You should have.”   
  
“I didn’t want to. We _would_ have hurt each other then. We’re too evenly matched,” Bucky explained simply. “I needed you to clear your head… and you did.”   
  
“So why is my gut churning?”   
  
Bucky closed his eyes against Steve’s chest. He was prepared for this. He’d spent hours awake and burning through every argument posed once Steve fell asleep beside him.   
  
“Because you’re a noble son of a bitch who mother hens me a little too much sometimes. I’m telling you I’m fine.”   
  
“It looks like I raped you.”   
  
Bucky moved fast. Blindingly fast. He slammed Steve’s back against the floor and rolled atop him, holding him down with his metal arm. Anger was sparking through every nerve.   
  
“Don’t ever say that to me. You aren’t even _capable_ of that, and you fucking couldn’t if you tried because I would not let it happen. I wouldn’t allow _anything_ like that to happen to me again, not even by you, Steve, so get that out of your head _right the fuck now_.”   
  
Steve blinked back tears and shook his head. “Promise me that, Buck. Swear that to me because I don’t remember after he ran. I don’t know how we got back. I don’t know what I did to you. I can’t deal with that.”   
  
Bucky’s anger slowly receded along with the press of his hand against Steve’s chest. He winced a little at the marks his fingers made in Steve’s pale flesh, but he gestured to them.   
  
“Did I hurt you?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Then there’s your answer right there, Steve,” he sighed, and climbed to his feet. He held out a hand to help Steve up. Once they were both standing, he turned his lover toward the bed and pointed to the dirtied sheets.   
  
“For the record, that’s not all you. There’s your answer too.”   
  
Steve grimaced and a strange, garbled noise came from the modulator. It made Bucky tense up until words followed.   
  
“Crass, Bucky, but okay. I get it.”   
  
“I’m a crass guy,” Bucky shrugged with a lopsided grin. He gripped Steve’s chin in his hand and put as much stern love behind his words as he could. “I swear that I will never let you hurt me, just like you swore to me when I moved in with you that you would never let me hurt you either.”   
  
“Okay,” Steve answered, the modulator dropping down a notch in volume. “Can we change these and lay back down? Not feeling great.”   
  
Bucky felt his forehead with a worried frown. He was still running a little warmer than normal, but Steve pulled away from his touch so Bucky didn’t make an issue of it.   
  
“Go ahead,” he murmured. “I’m going to order food for us both and make some coffee.”   
  
“Tea,” Steve corrected, his eyes plaintiff when he glanced at Bucky. “I don’t want caffeine.”   
  
“Okay,” Bucky shrugged again. He paused by the door to grab a pair of discarded track pants, and pulled them up over his hips as he shuffled down the hall.   
  
“Jarvis,” he murmured quietly, “patch me through?”   
  
“Of course,” came the AI’s equally quiet response.   
  
“Jesus,” Tony’s voice blurted. “Are you actually okay?!”   
  
“Fine,” Bucky grunted as he filled the electric kettle with water.   
  
“You look like you lost a fight with a piranha,” Tony answered, not really sounding convinced. “Uh, no, not my job, and that task looks like you’ve had enough for the time being,” he retorted when Bucky silently flipped him off.   
  
“What happened, Bucky?” That was an unusually earnest question from Tony. It was something he’d expect more from Bruce. He saw one of his shirts slung over the back of a kitchen chair and snatched it up.   
  
“We fucked, Tony,” Bucky sighed irritably as he pulled the t-shirt on. “Steve got some much-needed sleep, and he’s back to being his guilt-ridden self and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders again.”   
  
“So you called because…?”   
  
“Just letting you know he’s back to himself,” Bucky muttered. “Send up food. A lot of it. I’m starving.”   
  
“Normal food?”   
  
“W’kind of question is that?” Bucky snapped.   
  
“A reasonable one,” was Tony’s incredibly patient reply.   
  
Bucky took a slow breath and rubbed at his eyes. “Uber rare for him. Denver omelette for me. Like five of them. He ate before we left, but I didn’t. I’m fucking hungry.”   
  
There was a long silence.   
  
“I’ll send a few things up,” Tony muttered, then cut the line. Bucky slumped against the counter and rubbed at his shoulder joint, the scarring feeling a bit achy. Steve appeared, his expression instantly growing concerned as he took in Bucky’s body language.   
  
“What is it?” he asked, reaching up to gently massage between Bucky’s shoulders.   
  
Bucky groaned and let his head fall forward. “You know Tony. Even something as simple as ordering a fucking omelette tests my patience.”   
  
Steve thought over that.   
  
“Did you call him before or after you put your shirt on?”   
  
“Before,” Bucky answered without hesitation. “I got nothing to hide ‘cause I got no problem with you marking me, Steve. Not the first time I’ve gotten hickies. Better not be the last either,” he added with a look of warning.   
  
Steve actually blushed this time, and Bucky was thankful for it.   
  
“Can I share some of your omelette?”   
  
“Yeah, doll, I ordered plenty,” Bucky answered with a sincere smile as he reached for the kettle.   
  
“Doll.” It was hard to hear any kind of emotion in the digitized version of Steve’s voice, so Bucky looked back to check his expression.   
  
“Sorry,” he apologized, even though Steve had a gentle smile across his lips. “Don’t like that?”   
  
“No,” Steve corrected quickly, holding up his hand. “It’s… You called girls that when you were sweet on them.”   
  
“Well then it fits the situation,” Bucky smiled back, slightly sheepish. “Definitely sweet on _you_ , Rogers.”   
  
“Then I like it,” Steve nodded, but then grew hesitant. “Just not in front of the others?”   
  
“I wouldn’t,” Bucky chuckled, though he was serious. Some things were just between them, despite him being unabashed about their relationship. “Some stuff just ain’t for anyone but us, Stevie.”   
  
“Okay,” Steve smiled, and it was genuine. It was something Bucky sorely needed to see.   
  
__________________________________________________   
  
Steve had already finished eating his own food, and had taken the plate to the kitchen to rinse it while Bucky continued to pick at his third omelette. He returned, clad only in track pants and a tank top, and flopped back onto the bed. He held his mouth open, so Bucky scooped up a bite and shoveled it into Steve's mouth with a smirk.   
  
“There’s a chocolate cake on the kitchen table with a note from Tony,” Steve commented casually. Bucky’s eyes widened as he chewed. “Still gonna have room for that after three omelettes?”   
  
“Yes,” Bucky answered with no doubt in his tone. “All of it. _All_ the chocolate cake, Steve.”   
  
“Remember when Miss Lean ah-” Steve winced and rolled his eyes as Bucky looked at him with mild horror.   
  
Miss Lina, he signed, then tapped his modulator back on. “Remember when she used to make chocolate cake for you when you fixed stuff in her house?”   
  
Bucky’s eyes flicked about the room. It seemed right, but he couldn’t quite remember the specifics of it.   
  
“Kinda,” he murmured. “I remember you joking that you were gonna break a bunch of stuff at her place so she’d keep baking me stuff.”   
  
Steve smiled, a little melancholy. It set off a few warning bells in Bucky’s head, but he didn’t address it yet. Too early to know where this nostalgia was heading.   
  
“It was good cake,” Steve mused.   
  
“Well that’s sayin’ somethin’ since you were always more about pie.” He stabbed a chunk of eggy ham and dragged his teeth over the fork tongs to pull it free. At this point he wasn’t really hungry anymore, but he continued to pick at the food. It gave him a way to organize his thoughts and deflect whatever he might need to.   
  
The modulator made another weird noise, and Bucky was beginning to suspect it was trying to “translate” the mental equivalent of a laugh or similar sentiment. Tony’s toys tended to be capable of various levels of learning. He’d have to ask. The more Steve used his, the less he seemed to notice its quirks, unless they were glaringly wrong.   
  
“I think your thing is trying to laugh for you,” Bucky mumbled past a mouthful of fluffy egg and peppers.   
  
“Maybe,” Steve shrugged. “Is it okay that it’s on? Nice to have my hands free.” He currently had his hand rested against the base of Bucky’s spine as he lay sprawled on the bed. Between that and just being grateful that Steve was talking again, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to take issue with the strange vocalizations.   
  
“S’fine, Stevie,” he nodded. “You stopped being able to speak for a few hours. I’m just glad to have you back to talking.”   
  
“Okay, so what aren’t you wanting to tell me, Bucky?”   
  
Bucky stared at his omelette, his appetite making a hasty exit as he put his fork down and glanced back at Steve. He wiped at his mouth with a paper towel, and tossed it onto the plate before setting it onto the nightstand. He slowly turned himself so he could face Steve.   
  
“I think Ella was right. I think there is definitely a hive mind, and I think you’re fucking Mufasa, Steve… but I think it also scrambled your brain a bit to be around them.”   
  
“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” Steve requested quietly. “Start from-” He tapped off the modulator and his lip jutted. He looked at Bucky, and it was obvious what he wanted to ask. For a moment, Bucky hesitated, because he didn’t want to answer. There was no way he could lie about it though. Steve would see right through him.   
  
“There was nothing either of us could do. He took off, and they’ve gotten too fast. They were on him instantly.”   
  
Steve’s expression fell from carefully neutral to pained as he ran his fingers briskly over his eyes.   
  
“He ran because I scared him. They weren’t attacking us. We could have saved him.”   
  
“That’s on me then,” Bucky informed him firmly. “I’m the one that told you to turn it on. I knew you were having trouble… but I wanted to hear you… even if it was… that.”   
  
“You can’t even call it by name,” Steve answered. The tone was flat, but Bucky could easily imagine the sadness that would normally go with that kind of statement.   
  
“I don’t like it because I’m a selfish prick, Steve,” Bucky retorted truthfully as he waved his hands. “It’s flat and emotionless, and you’re all emotion. I want to hear the snippy, bullheaded, sass in your voice. I wanna hear the smirk you’ve always got on your face in your words. I want this to be _over_. I want you well, and I wanna forget this shit ever happened. I want glow worms and star-gazing, Steve.”

  
“You are not selfish,” Steve insisted as he cupped Bucky’s face with one hand. “You have never been selfish. You gave up so many things so many times for me. I don’t want to hear that from you.”   
  
“It’s true,” Bucky shrugged. “I don’t care that the world might need you. I only care about getting away. I care about the most stressful part of our day finally being who nails who at night.”   
  
“Just at night?” came the gentle jab, Steve’s lips quirking up teasingly.   
  
Bucky would have liked to have been able to really smile at that, but it was stuck somewhere beneath the surface. Seeing that there was still sadness in Steve’s eyes was holding Bucky’s smile prisoner beneath his sternum.   
  
“Figuratively speaking,” he scoffed back. He had a salty image to uphold. It didn’t keep his expression and tone from becoming painfully earnest.   
  
“Let’s find somewhere with waterfalls that we can fuck behind. What’s the name for ‘em…?”   
  
  **G-R-O-T-T-O?** Steve signed, obviously not trusting his modulator to spit the right word out. He tapped the translator back on. “I don’t know if that’s right.”   
  
“We’ll find out,” was Bucky’s determined reply. “We’re finding out, Steve.”   
  
“Okay,” he replied simply. “We’ll find out.” He held his hand out, gesturing for the plate Bucky set aside.   
  
“Come on. Give me that. Tell me how we got back while I rinse that off, and you can grab a piece of cake while we’re in there.”   
  
Bucky wasn’t all that interested in the cake, but again, it was something to do so he didn’t come off as so fidgety. It was chocolate and probably ridiculously good since Stark sent it up. There were worse things to suffer through, that was damn certain.   
  
He handed Steve the plate and climbed from the bed, padding along behind him. He watched Steve’s back as they walked down the hallway, remembering how the power of those muscles felt undulating beneath his fingertips last night. He wanted to feel the fluttery longing in his gut over being so thoroughly turned inside out last night, but there was a piece of Steve missing from that scenario.   
  
Not bothering with a plate, Bucky went for full ownership of the cake and sat down with only a fork in hand. Steve clicked his tongue playfully as he glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow.   
  
“What would your mom say?”   
  
“Less than your ma would.”   
  
Bucky met his eye, shrugged, and very deliberately ran his index finger through the frosting on one side of the cake. He slowly licked the creamy, buttery goo from his finger then sucked the digit into the warmth of his mouth to finish cleaning it off. Steve’s eyes darkened, but he turned back to the sink with a shake of his head. There wasn’t true intent behind Bucky’s lewd action and Steve knew it. It was more to yank Steve’s chain. Distract him.   
  
Truth was, Bucky remembered Steve’s mother better than he remembered his own. Steve probably knew that too. Bucky tended to deflect a lot when it came to talking about his parents. His father had never been a particularly sunny topic anyway, from what Steve told him. Not a terrible man, but distant. Hard to glean affection from. Having been through war, Bucky understood now what the first world war had done to his father, but his childhood didn’t have that clarity. It was hard for such a tactile child to comprehend what they now knew as PTSD, especially when no one wanted to discuss it, especially his father. Winifred Barnes became a quiet buffer between their two personalities, keeping a vigilant eye upon them and a careful distance between them.   
  
While he was missing huge pieces of his family history, he remembered clearly that his sister had moved back to Brooklyn once she was old enough. She'd bunked with Steve and Bucky briefly until she could find a tenement setup for young women who weren't yet married. Something about Steve eased the tension that perpetually lingered between him and Rebecca when they lived with their parents. She adored Steve. She found a place that she could take further education classes for secretary work, and then managed to get herself into nursing school. Every exam that she brought by with an exceptional grade, Steve would doodle something on the back of the paper. For three years, Steve Rogers singlehandedly exploited Rebecca’s crush, and motivated her to graduate nursing school with honor status. He also remembered half wishing Steve could return Rebecca’s attention, knowing she would hang the moon for Steve back then. Now he was grateful it never panned out. From what he’d learned, Becs went on to find a good man of decent means. They remained married to his death. Becs never remarried, and was buried next to him still bearing his last name.  
  
And now he and Steve were together in a way he'd never thought possible back then.  
  
Steve had asked if he wanted to look up his niece and nephew, but Bucky hadn’t been in a frame of mind to deal with that. As he recovered, he came to the conclusion that it would be better to keep his distance from them. With Steve’s help, he composed a single letter to his sister’s two children, now adults, and asked for their pardon to remain a stranger. It was ultimately safer for them, and he didn’t wish to have their lives possibly thrown into chaos by someone looking to settle a score or make a point. The letters he’d received in return had been too difficult to read. Steve had read them aloud to Bucky, his voice soft and reverent as he relayed their love and understanding to a man they only knew through their late mother’s eyes. They both made it clear that he would be welcomed with open arms if the time came that he felt it safe enough to change his mind.   
  
Maybe after he got to see those glow worms. Maybe after the perfect waterfall.   
  
His name in monotone had his eyes snapping upward as Steve sat down across from him.   
  
“Where did you go?”   
  
Bucky looked away from that intent azure gaze, and slowly sank his fork into the dense layers of cake.   
  
“Was thinkin’ about Roger and Jamie,” he answered hesitantly. “Maybe… might look them up after we…”   
  
He trailed off as he realized he didn’t even know if they were still alive; if their families were still safe. He let the fork drop, the metal clanging against the china platter and the bite of cake untasted.   
  
“Fury owes us. He owes _me_.”   
  
Steve stared at Bucky, but it was clear that he’d followed the line of silent thought without Bucky explaining. He nodded slowly and rested his hand to Bucky’s forearm.   
  
“We can ask Tony to relay the message. Even if he won’t help, maybe Tony can.”   
  
Bucky thought about that. He had no desire to keep perpetuating a cycle of favors and debts with Fury. In truth, Fury wasn’t a bad guy, and Bucky knew this, but that wasn’t a fact he could embrace right now. His rage was still too fresh, and he couldn’t begin to guess when that would change.   
  
“Ask Tony first,” Bucky muttered, focusing upon the handle of the fork as he traced its delicate scroll work with his finger. Titanium blend against silver, he could smash the handle flat to the table if he chose to. Part of him wanted to, but Steve was already fighting off a dark mood. He didn’t need to add to it by being concerned over Bucky.   
  
“You don’t want to ask him yourself… why?”   
  
Bucky didn’t have to hear Steve’s actual voice to know what inflection would normally be there. His brain was starting to supply that on its own to where he could almost “hear” it like a thin veneer over the digitized words. He had their closeness to thank for that, his mind filling in the blanks automatically.   
  
“I might have yelled at him…”   
  
“Nothing new,” Steve pushed, implying he knew there was more than just Bucky raising his voice to be this hesitant about asking for a favor from Stark.   
  
“I might have… screamed at him.”   
  
“And?”   
  
Bucky winced, really _really_ wanting to smash the fork now.   
  
“I might have fucked up part of his suit a little…”   
  
Steve blinked slowly. Bucky hadn’t deliberately damaged anything of Tony’s since he crushed a spanner wrench two years ago, but that had been mostly on Tony for pushing Bucky too hard while he was still dealing with severe flashbacks.   
  
“A little…”   
  
Gritting his teeth over the memory, Bucky slowly increased pressure in his finger until a small indentation formed in the fork handle.   
  
“I… ripped the hand off and... crushed it?”   
  
Steve’s mouth fell slightly open and Bucky wanted to recoil from it, but Steve gave his forearm a gentle squeeze.   
  
“How about you back up and tell me what happened, starting with the moo fast us thing.”   
  
Bucky’s eyes slid to Steve’s as his eyebrows shot upward. Steve rolled his eyes, took the fork away from Bucky, and tapped off the modulator before signing.   
_  
_ **M-U-F-A-S-A. Hive mind.**   
  
“Damn that thing is weird.”   
  
**It was a lot of jargon thrown at me by Tony, otherwise I’d explain why it does that. The longer I use it, the less it’ll happen. Don’t change the subject, Buck.**   
  
Bucky’s nose wrinkled, wanting to do practically anything other than rehash last night. He dragged his right index finger through the icing again, but this time Steve’s hand shot out and caught his wrist.   
  
“Stop,” he commanded after tapping on, and wiping Bucky’s finger off with a napkin. “Talk to me.”

  
Bucky huffed loudly and pulled his wrist free.   
  
“You busted a few zombies up, but mostly they backed away from you and the guy. Like you were head honcho. Top of the pecking order. We were gonna head back, but you started cramping up again.”   
  
Steve’s frown was confused as hell. “I ate though. I shouldn’t have started that again.”   
  
“I know, but I think proximity to them does some weird shit to you. I was hearing a weird buzzing in my ears, and I had trouble concentrating. It’s like we were reverting to how it was in LA, Steve.”   
  
He stopped waving and gesturing, then ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to express to Steve how terrifying the incident was, so he did what he could to stick to simple, base facts.   
  
“How did we get back? Do the others know what happened?”   
  
“Yes,” Bucky hedged. “Sam and Tony picked us up. You were in too much pain and I couldn’t think clearly enough to do anything besides hole up.”   
  
“Is that what happened to Tony’s suit?” Steve looked like he didn’t want to ask the question, but his eyes were sympathetic at the same time. Bucky shook his head.   
  
“No, it was fine until they tried to keep me from you,” Bucky explained, his irritation bleeding through a bit more than he intended. “You were unconscious, and I needed to be near you. They thought the hive mind effect might not be good for us. They wanted to wait until you woke up, but there was no way I was letting that happen.”   
  
Bucky’s bruises and bites were already looking better, but they were still pronounced enough for Steve to run his fingertips over the first bite Steve made.   
  
“Maybe they were right. Look at these-”   
  
Bucky slammed his hand down upon the table as a wave of anger washed over him. The salt and pepper dispensers fell onto their sides, and the fork Steve had moved jostled from the table top altogether. He didn’t bother to pick it up, keeping his sad eyes fastened to Bucky.   
  
“No. I already told you that you don’t need to worry about what happened between us. I’m _fine_. They had no right to try to block me from being in here with you.”   
  
Steve said nothing initially. His eyes remained locked upon Bucky’s, and it unnerved Bucky to no end. Steve’s gaze was going right through him and he wanted desperately to just look away and find some diversion. Why couldn’t someone decide to interrupt them now?   
  
“So… if I don’t need to worry-”   
  
Bucky inwardly felt himself shrivel with dread. Steve fucking missed nothing.   
  
“-why did you have a nightmare bad enough for me to have to pin you to the floor?”   
  
Bucky locked his jaw. “Stress, Steve.”   
  
“Bullshit.”   
  
“Oh,” Bucky laughed without humor, “so your thing can swear. That’s nice, Stevie. Real nice. That what you were _calibrating_ when I thought I was down here fuckin’ hallucinating a dead woman?”   
  
Shock caused Steve’s face to drain of color as Bucky stood up and stalked into the bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and crawled onto the bed, burrowing back beneath the emotional safety of the comforter. Steve didn’t immediately follow him, and that caused the ache in his chest to bring tears to his eyes. He blinked them away though, hoping at least this way he could get Steve to back off from the subject of last night.   
  
That was wishful thinking though, because the door finally opened carefully. Steve peered inside and Bucky wanted to kick himself. He was supposed to be taking care of Steve now, but the blond had a determined, patient expression, and his eyes were far too knowing.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled past the comforter. “That was outta line.”   
  
“A bit,” Steve allowed as he walked slowly into the room, “but you only lash out like that when you feel cornered or off-balance.”   
  
Bucky didn’t reply, so Steve eased around to the other side of the bed. He crawled in behind Bucky and wrapped his arm about the cocooned man’s waist. Pressing close, he nuzzled Bucky’s nape until he finally rolled over and tucked himself against Steve’s chest. Steve put his hand partially over the translator to muffle the volume before he turned it back on.   
  
“Please tell me about the nightmare, Buck.”   
  
Rather than answer directly, Bucky frowned against Steve’s skin.   
  
“Do you remember the cabin upstate?”   
  
“Your uncle’s?” Steve asked after a brief hesitation.   
  
“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed.   
  
“Sure,” Steve answered, and Bucky realized it was a silly question. Steve remembered everything. “I went there after they pulled me out of the ice. They thought it would be good for me to have some time alone to deal with what happened to me. To us. It was a lot to take in, and I hadn’t had time to even grieve you, let alone everyone we knew.”   
  
Bucky’s body gradually turned to ice as Steve spoke. It couldn’t be. How could he have not remembered that? The nightmare had seemed like a fever dream and completely fear-fabricated. Could life and fate really be so cruel as to have them right there within feet of each other years before DC? Bucky’s mind started to fill in more blanks as it replayed the dream, only this time he hadn’t spoken to Steve. He’d seen the picture and fled. And then Rumlow… Pierce...  
  
Bucky was out of Steve’s arms and bolting for the bathroom to throw up.   
  
Steve came in behind him, assuming his normal spot to rub Bucky’s back and pull his hair from his face as he retched violently. A tiny, hysterical part of his mind was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten the cake. Nothing spoiled a meal for months like it coming back up.   
  
He realized his ears were buzzing with his elevated pulse, and it was preventing him from hearing what Steve was saying to him. It was likely soothing nonsense, but Bucky needed to hear it. He tried to stop his hyperventilating, and slow his heart rate so his pulse would stop deafening him. He focused upon the circular patterns Steve gently rubbed into his skin, and soon the sound of the modulator began to trickle through.   
  
“That’s it, Buck. Just breathe. Nice and slow.”   
  
Gingerly shifting to the side, Bucky pressed his temple to the cool ceramic lip of the tub. He felt shivering tremors building in his muscles as he fought back tears, but Steve curled up behind him and pulled him close.   
  
“Don’t hold it in, Bucky. Let it out.”   
  
That was all it took to crack the dam and let loose the torrent. Bucky wrapped his right arm around Steve and let the loud, wracking sobs free. He didn’t want to be crying like this. He didn’t want to be losing his shit like this when Steve needed him, but this was too much. He thought the helicarrier was bad, but this was worse. They’d sent him there to watch Steve and possibly take him captive in the hopes of turning him into an asset. Bucky had very nearly contributed to putting the kind of blood on Steve’s hands that he’d fought so hard to prevent.   
  
“I was there, Steve,” he gasped. “They sent me to watch you. I was supposed to report back, unless you saw me… but I saw you on the floor with a picture of us… I freaked out and ran… I ran back to Rumlow… I felt like I had to protect you… I tried to pretend you weren’t a threat, but…he called me asset again… I told him my name was Bucky… They wiped me.”   
  
He curled more tightly into Steve, his eyes still squeezed shut. Steve’s grip just tightened upon him.   
  
“Oh fuck, Stevie… I was right there… They wanted to make you like me… and I almost helped them…”   
  
Steve’s modulator didn’t go off. He didn’t try to respond to Bucky. Instead, he wrapped himself around his lover and quietly shhh’d against his hair. His lips moved, but it didn’t really matter what Steve might be saying. All Bucky could do was cling to Steve, refusing to use his left arm as he buried his face against Steve’s neck.   
  
He would rather relive the helicarrier a thousand times over than ever allow Steve to endure what he did, or become the devil he'd been forged into.


	12. "Butter knife."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a pep talk from the last person he expected. Steve on the other hand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Shaish for reading through part of this chapter, cuz when ya write at 2am, shit definitely needs to be proofed. They don't call 'em first drafts for nuthin. :)
> 
> Also, if you wanna know exactly how I picture Bucky in this AU (as of Shit Mission forward), this would be it:
> 
> I nearly died. Really, I did, because THIS IS MY BUCKY. I saw him tan and healthy, with sun streaks in his hair because he and Steve would love doing stuff outside. Given how confined and cloistered he was under HYDRA, this is how I imagine him being once he started to truly live again.

_The fingers dug into the back of his neck._

_“I said mission report.”_

_“Rogers is no threat.”_

_“Elaborate.”_

_“He might be dangerous if he stops bawling like a bitch. Didn’t happen while I was there.”_

_“Yeah, he’s big and strong as fuck, but he’s also a sentimental pansy when it comes down to it. He could be a great asset if we could wipe that outta him.”_

Bucky jerked awake, his eyes wide and unseeing until he oriented himself to his surroundings again. Every time he had closed his eyes to sleep, memories had paraded themselves through his head as nightmares. Steve’s grip upon him tightened slightly, but he didn’t wake. He was just as exhausted by the realization of the cabin as Bucky was. Steve’s emotions ran so deep that, even with his strong sense of vigilance over Bucky, he was still likely to sleep hard for two or three more hours.

Bucky was just the opposite. Steve healed with sleep, but Bucky wouldn’t be sleeping again. Not for a while. The memories were still too fresh and raw in his mind. The nausea still rolled through his stomach every time he heard himself talking to Rumlow. Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut more? So many times his confusion had caused him to say things that didn’t need to be said. Things that had tipped Pierce and Rumlow off far too much. How much pain could he have avoided, both to himself and others, if he had just remained silent?

Disentangling himself from Steve’s embrace, Bucky’s move from the bed was almost panicked. He needed air. He needed space to clear his head and process. Deal with what he’d learned. He needed to be functional when Steve woke.

Functional. Bucky inwardly kicked himself for using that word again. Sometimes his mind still reverted somewhat, and he hated it when it happened. He just needed to sort through the jumble of emotions he was currently feeling. He couldn’t be wallowing in disgust and self-loathing when Steve was awake and needing him. Steve wouldn’t tolerate it, and would spend all his energy worrying about Bucky. That just couldn’t happen. Bucky needed Steve’s energy to focus upon worrying about himself and beating this virus.

The sweats he’d discarded before their trip outside were still by the bathroom door. He snatched them up and donned the shirt as he walked down the hallway. The pants were pulled on in the kitchen as he eyed a vent high on the wall. Tennis shoes were next as he looked around the kitchen counter for what he needed.

_____________________________________________

 

“Sir, Bucky has left the containment suite and is currently on the roof.”

Tony dropped the arc-welder he was using to repair his suit’s crushed glove. He looked up at the ceiling in stunned silence, deeply grateful that his tools auto-disengaged when they lost contact with his hands. Hard-won wisdom, that.

“How the fuck did he get out?”

“He climbed out through the vent used to release sedative gas.”

“Why did we make it big enough for him to fit through?”

“The sedation vent is constructed to be too small for the Hulk, Sir, but not Bucky. With his usual arsenal, he would likely have difficulties, but he is not currently in uniform, and was able to squeeze through.”

“Jesus, he’s not naked is he?”

“No, Sir. He is attired in the sweats you provided to both him and Captain Rogers.”

“And why didn’t we secure that vent with an electron grid?”

“The suite was built with the Hulk in mind, Sir,” Jarvis reminded him. “It was deemed unnecessary since it is far too small for the Hulk to fit through. It is also highly unlikely that it would even occur to him to try.”

Tony sighed and popped his neck. “Make a note of it. Get someone on it now, Jarvis.”

“Would you prefer Redmond, or Guerra?”

“Guerra,” Tony answered without hesitation. “He’s faster.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Sneaky bastard. Tony would love to be annoyed by it, but he loved being challenged even more. Leave it to Barnes to poke holes through his security almost every time. If Barnes was finally settling into a place where they could manage to work together, Tony might just have to bring him in as a consultant more often.

“Wait, do I need to be concerned that he’s on the roof? Does he look like he’s trying to leave or is he being a woobie boy? Where’s Steve, by the way?”

“If by ‘woobie’ you mean showing signs of distress, then yes, you should be concerned. Captain Rogers is still asleep and, given recent events, I am hesitant to wake him to alert him to Bucky’s state of mind.

Also, it has just begun to rain. The temperature is currently forty-one degrees, but is quickly dropping as the sun sets. While this is not enough to throw Captain Rogers into hypothermia, Bucky’s version of the serum is still very much a mystery to us on many levels, Sir. It is unknown if he will react-”

“Yeah, okay okay,” Tony groaned. “I get it. I’ll check on him.”

“Very good, sir.”

Tony made a short detour to his apartment for a thermal rain coat. After a couple of minutes of digging, he found a thermal blanket that was large enough to wrap around Barnes if he was chilled. At least it would repel rain if Tony couldn’t coax him back inside, and that was a very real possibility with Barnes.

The elevator pinged open and Tony was relieved to see that so far, it was only a heavy drizzle outside. Barnes was huddled about a hundred feet away to his left. As he trudged closer, he put a little extra scuff to his steps. He had no illusions of ever being able to sneak up on Barnes if he was fully aware, but right now he had that thousand-yard stare going on. That tended to mean he was lost inside his head to some extent. Better to announce his presence than risk being vaulted off the tower in a knee-jerk reaction. He'd rather not have his suit busting holes through the tower's windows in the middle of winter.

“Clever, using the gas vent,” he called as he drew closer. “Crazy as fuck, but clever.”

At the volume he was speaking, there was no doubt Barnes could have heard him from the dry safety of the elevator, but again, better to announce. His only confirmation that Barnes heard him was a subtle shift of his eyes. Snipers were creepy as fuck sometimes. Tony couldn’t imagine being that still for that long, and Barnes took it to a whole other level. Even his arm wasn’t clicking or adjusting.

“I mean, what if it automatically dispensed gas the minute you crawled in there? And how did you get those flanges out anyway? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Nothing. Okay.

“It’s raining out here. Did you actually notice that, or is this a sniper thing where you’re just studiously ignoring it? Like if you’re super zoned out, I’m probably not the best person to deal with you, and I should probably get Steve out here-”

“No. Don’t.”

“Aaand it speaks. Okay, so not zoned out. Okay. Good. That’s… good.”

Barnes didn’t say more, so Tony went back to uneasy twitching.

“So are you just needing some space or air or what…? Because there’s an overhang over there. It’s kinda freezing out here.” He eased forward, and hesitantly draped the blanket over Barnes’ shoulders. Unsure if it was welcome or not, Tony immediately took a step back, just out of reach of that metal arm.

“I guess if you’re wanting to get a feel for the whole Capscicle thing, it’s fine but-”

“I get why I freak you out now,” Barnes muttered quietly, still not moving or looking at him. “You can’t shut up and you can’t be still. You can't deal with people who do.”

“Sure I can,” Tony blatantly lied, although some corner of his mind swore that it wasn’t a lie at all. “I can when I’m studying and think-tanking-”

“People are like your projects,” came the surprising answer, still without any real movement from Barnes. “You can find out a lot of shit about them if you shut up long enough to notice. You wouldn't need all the questions all the time.”

“Yeah, but people make me nervous,” Tony blurted out with wide, unblinking eyes, “but that was uh… surprisingly deep for you, Barnes. I’m not sure if I’m less creeped out now, or more.”

The unpredictable sniper pursed his lips and bowed his head. The drizzle had now weighed his hair down enough that droplets were slowly beginning to fall from the clumped ends. He pulled the blanket a little closer to his body, but Tony was still too busy processing the zennish comment to notice.

“My uncle used to have a cabin upstate.”

“Yeah, I know. My dad bought it after the war.”

That drew a look of surprise from Barnes, his pale eyes catching the glow from the tower’s signage in an eerie way. Tony found himself verbally surging forward to explain.

“He went through a real sentimental phase with you two. He tucked away a lot of shit that he felt should be preserved or, you know, protected. They were gonna put a power plant substation up there, so he bought the cabin to keep it from being torn down. He paid for the plant to be relocated further up the river.”

Barnes’ stare felt even more uncomfortable after that. He was sizing Tony up, but who the hell really knew why? Without his suit, Tony was certainly no threat to Barnes, but this didn’t really feel like that kind of assessment, more like a sizing up of Tony’s character. That almost felt worse.

“It’s Steve’s now.”

He wasn’t sure why he blurted that out, but Barnes’ eyes widened almost comically.

“Steve know that?”

“Nooo,” Tony hedged. He tried to scratch at the back of his neck, but the hood of his coat was in the way. “I put it in his name after he spent some time up there…? I dunno, after the fourth or fifth trip, it just seemed silly not to give it to him but you know how he can be. It hasn’t really come up at a time where warm, fuzzy feelings would be appreciated. We aren’t a cuddly pair.”

His nose was starting to get cold, and the chill of the damp air was seeping into his joints in a way that he didn’t appreciate since he stopped drinking on a regular basis. Besides, that stillness was really getting to him, even though Barnes was at least staring a hole through him.

“What about it? The cabin, I mean.”

A sadness that Tony rarely got to see on Barnes’ face shuttered the ex-assassin’s eyes. He used to always look haunted and burdened by his demons, but this was vulnerable and far more unguarded than usual.

“I was there,” he answered quietly with a rueful smile.

“Well yeah, it was your uncle’s before it was my dad’s. _Oh you mean recently?_ Like Steve took you there _recently_? What, d’you kill Bambi for him or something?”

Tony’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but Barnes just allowed his chin to dip again as he shook his head from side to side. For a man that could rip him apart without breaking a sweat, Barnes looked kinda pitiful at the moment.

“No… After they found him. After the ice-”

“Oh... _Oh!_ No...! You don’t mean when you were...” Surely he couldn’t mean back when SHIELD imposed a mourning period for Steve. Apparently he’d been a mess, but was bound and determined to keep it under wraps. He reportedly refused to speak to therapists, so Fury had shipped him up to the cabin for a couple of months. He’d been resistant to the idea initially, but it was either that or be sidelined indefinitely. That was definitely not something Steve Rogers could do, and he’d ended up going back to visit a few times.

Barnes nodded to confirm what Tony was thinking. Dreading, actually.

“HYDRA sent me.”

“To kill him-”

“If necessary-”

“-because that really puts a dent in your record if you were supposed to kill him and didn’t manage it... but there’s no record of an attempt...”

The eyes that rose back to his had returned to that haunted, hollow stare that made even Thor twitchy.

“There was no attempt. I didn't try. I didn’t know who he was at first… They only gave me a last name. I was supposed to just watch and learn... but I started having these thoughts… I started feeling things that I didn’t understand. I got too close and... I saw a picture of me that he was holding…” Barnes shook his head again and wiped a clump of dripping hair from his face. The old Barnes, the Winter Soldier, would have let it hang in his eyes. Even that small gesture was a testament to his journey so far.

“You panicked,” Tony muttered. “You panicked and ran right back to them, didn’t you? You didn’t know what to do with what got shoved into your face, so you ran back to what you _did_ know… even if it was Hell on earth.”

The expression on Barnes face was one of mild wonder, like he couldn’t believe Tony would be able to understand.

“I almost helped them turn him into a monster like me.”

“Except you’re not a monster. Never were.” A sense of shock flowed through Tony over how quickly that burst from his mouth. This was not his area, not his forte. Not at all.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Barnes grunted, his tone disapproving and his eyes incredulous. “Your parents-”

“I don’t wanna go there again,” Tony cut across, holding his hand up. “It took me a long time, really expensive therapy, and even more expensive booze to separate you from what was done to you… and what they had you do. For my own piece of mind, I don’t want to talk about that again… but I do see where this is going and the answer is no. You do _not_ get to mope and beat yourself up something else where the blame is HYDRA’s. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at Alex Pierce. Hell, be pissed at my dad for that matter. Steve wanted to go back and search for you, but my dad was the one that had to tell him you were a lost cause-”

“Howard and I had our differences, but he couldn't have known,” Barnes began, but Tony cut him off impatiently again.

“And neither could you. Not when HYDRA had you so screwed up in the head that you didn’t remember your own name. We all saw the files. We know what they did… at least the stuff they bothered writing down. You’re not responsible for that time of your life, and I’m not about to let you fall back into that kind of blame game. Not when you’ve come so fucking far, and definitely not when Cap needs you.”

“You don't think I just keep dragging him down?”

“No, that’s bullshit,” Tony insisted. “You coming back, and him being able to help you get your life back is the best thing that’s happened to him. That guy was as shut down as they come. Hell, I didn't know he had a real sense of humor until you showed up and started teaching him bad jokes.”

"You got that backwards," Barnes smirked softly. "The really bad jokes are his. The good ones are mine, but he doesn't like to repeat them because he doesn't like to swear in front of most people."

"Huh," Tony blinked, taken a little aback by that. Barnes' brows returned to their furrow as the lighter moment faded.

“Don’t you worry about Pepper? Don’t you think sometimes that she’s crazy for staying around all of us?” Barnes asked the question sincerely, not to lash out. It didn’t sting any less though.

“Most days, yeah,” he begrudgingly admitted. “But one of many things that glorious woman has taught me is that loving someone also means respecting them. You gotta respect that Cap wants to be right where he is. Can’t make that choice for him.”

Wow, now he sounded like Dr. Phil. Had to be the cold. It was doing something to him. It was doing something to the weather too, because the drizzle around them was gradually turning into flakes of snow. Big, fluffy ones that seemed way too peaceful for the current mood. Barnes squinted up at the sky.

“I used to hate snow," he muttered. "I remember waking up half buried in it. I was in so much pain that I literally couldn’t scream. All I could do was stare up at these snowflakes falling around me. Every time one hit my face it was like needles.”

His chin dropped, and he gazed off into some recalled memory. “Steve though… He doesn’t much like the cold either, but he really wanted to go see this snow sculpture contest they were having in Central Park. We don’t really feel cold as bad as normal people do, but we bundled up anyway to blend in. We walked over there and I was thinking that I was gonna hate all of it. It wasn’t bad, but on the way back… _that_ was different. It started snowing, and it was getting dark so no one was around. It was so quiet... Just our boots crunching... and I looked over… Steve had stopped and was just looking up at the snow. He was smiling. He looked so peaceful, so I asked him what he was thinking about. He said for once, he didn’t mind the snow.”

Barnes’ eyes flicked back over to Tony. “And then he tagged me in the head with a fucking snowball.”

Tony could only gape before sputtering, “You know, he’s like this whole other person with you. It’s a little disturbing. I don’t even know how to handle the mental swearing he did when we calibrated his voice translation modulator.”

Barnes just smiled at him, and it was mildly terrifying. “Your teeth are going to start chattering any second now.”

“Yeah, go figure,” Tony scoffed. He’d had about enough of this emotional deluge. “Are you coming in, or do I have to send him up here? Either works for me, but you’ll need to give it a couple of hours at least before you can have a decent snowball fight up here.”

Looking about the roof one more time, then out toward the city, Barnes stood and walked slowly to where Tony stood. He followed Tony into the elevator and was silent until a few floors down.

“Sorry about your suit.”

The apology was simple, and one that Tony could easily take as completely sincere.

“Don’t worry about it, Barnes. Should’ve known better than to try to keep you out of the suite. Just gives me an excuse to improve upon the tensile strength of the metals.”

“Bucky.” It was muttered so softly that Tony almost didn’t hear the waterlogged sniper say it.

“What?”

“After all this time, you should probably just call me Bucky,” he shrugged, keeping his focus upon the floor numbers.

“No more Rose?” Icy blue eyes slid sideways to give Tony a lethal stare. “Okay, Bucky it is… unless you piss me off.”

“Sure thing, Junior.” Before Tony could give an indignant retort, the door slid open for the containment floor. Barnes stepped out, but put his hand against the door before it could close again. Pale eyes turned on him with a glint of amusement flickering through them.

“Butter knife,” he stated, his voice light as he released his grip on the door. “Fits into those flanges like it was made for the job.”

“Really,” Tony squawked as he slammed his hand down onto the hold button. “A butter knife?! That’s so 80’s MacGyver that it’s offensive! Do you know how much those flanges cost?!”

Barnes turned and slowly backed away from the elevator. He smiled coyly, jerking his shoulders lazily upward in a shrug better suited to a drunken frat boy. It was the first time Tony actually saw the Bucky Barnes that history idolized in the man before him.

 

__________________________________

Steve was sitting on the kitchen island when Bucky re-entered the containment suite through the door. He realized this not from actually seeing Steve, but from the vent grate that was hurled his direction the moment he walked in. The trajectory was a dead giveaway.

Luckily Bucky’s peripheral vision was exemplary, and his reflexes even better. Although Steve didn’t exactly put that much force behind it, the grate still made a god-awful sound when it clanged off of Bucky’s arm and hit the wall. He blinked over at the grate, then up at Steve. His boyfriend’s face was all thunder and storm clouds, his hero jaw squared in that way that told the world he was good and truly pissed-the-fuck-off. Bucky hadn’t seen his jaw do anything quite that dramatic since he was a scrawny little thing. Not good.

“Steve-”

Steve tapped his translator on the second Bucky opened his mouth to speak. The volume was low and sounded amazingly irate for being so monotone, but Bucky was likely projecting too.

“Don’t. Do you know how worried I was when I woke up and you weren’t here? Do you know how it felt to see that vent open, and not be able to follow you out? Jarvis said you were on the roof and in distress-”

“Steve-”

“-and that Tony went after you, but Jarvis couldn’t unlock the door for me to go check on you. Knowing how you get when you have this kind of memory come back, you didn’t think-”

“Steve-”

“-it would be wise to leave me a note or a text or… I… you no and… I... and…”

Bucky strode forward when Steve’s translator started misfiring again. Steve’s pupils were contracting, and the green was becoming bolder again. He grabbed Steve’s face and forced the furious man to look him in the eye.

“Hey, _hey!_ Steve! Look at me! Breathe, doll. Can you do that for me? Please, Stevie?”

Steve continued to glare at him, but Bucky saw that he was trying to focus on Bucky’s breathing to bring his own under control. Bucky murmured quiet, soothing directives to him, and gradually his eyes returned to normal… or at least their current version of normal.

“You are an asshole.”

Bucky snorted lightly and pressed his forehead to Steve’s.

“Yeah, usually on purpose… but not this time. I just needed to clear my head, Stevie. I knew after what happened that they probably wouldn’t let us out for a stroll. I needed to feel like I could control something again.”

“You should have told me,” Steve admonished him.

“You woulda given me those sad puppy eyes that you get when you worry,” Bucky explained softly. “You know me, Steve; sometimes I just have to work through stuff on my own. You needed to rest, and I planned on being back before you woke up.”

Steve gazed at him for a long moment before the translator fired off again.

“I don’t care if you can’t deal with my face. Tell me next time.”

“Okay.” Bucky kissed Steve’s temple, then his jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Steve closed his eyes, breathed in, then out as opened his eyes to give Bucky an assessing look. “I don’t want you dwelling on what happened at the cabin. I’m trying not to either.”

“What’s there to dwell on for you, Steve,” Bucky huffed. “You weren’t the one with ill intent-”

“Neither were you,” Steve interrupted.

“How can you even say that?” Bucky’s voice rose as his frustration bled through. “They sent me to watch you! I was supposed to report back so they could determine your state of mind! They wanted to know how vulnerable you were to see if they could turn you into an asset-”

“And obviously you didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. No one came after me. They didn’t send you back until-” Steve tapped off the translator for a moment to breathe. Bucky didn’t want to interrupt him, afraid it might get him really upset again.

“I heard you,” he finally said, after tapping it back on. “I heard someone on the porch, and I called out, thinking it was one of Furious men.” Steve winced at the misfire, but continued on. “I should have given chase. If I had, I might have caught you. I might have gotten through to you like I did on the helicarrier. Two years we might have gotten back-”

“And more lives saved.” Steve didn’t say it, but Bucky knew that was the elephant in the room. Steve shook his head, but Bucky didn’t let him speak. “It’s true, Steve. How many people did I kill coming after you on the bridge? How many when I tried to stop you from sabotaging the helicarriers? I nearly beat you to death.”

“Bucky, we agreed we both need to let that go-”

“But it’s relevant to this, Steve!”

“I don’t care, Bucket-” Steve gripped the island hard enough to crack the ledge, angry at having another misfire. He obviously didn’t want to let go of his grip upon Bucky, otherwise he would have signed instead.

“I don’t care. This all goes back to… _them_. I wish I would have chased you, but the truth is, being fast is one of the things you have on me. I likely wouldn’t have caught you. I’m trying to live with that, so I need you to live with your half too. We can’t change it, and we’ve had enough of our time stolen to let those bastards get any more of it.”

He brought both hands up to cup Bucky’s face tenderly. “Stay here in the present with me, Buck. Please? I need you here with me.”

“I know, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, a tear slipping over his cheek. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Not like before; I know you don’t need that-”

“No, I do,” Steve corrected him. “Every way you can think of, I need you.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to Steve’s lips. “Okay, I’m gonna be here. Someone pretty smart told me you chose to be with me, and whether or not I ever really believe that I deserve it, I at least have to respect it.”

“Really?” Steve smiled sweetly at him. “I have to agree with that advice. Who told you that?”

“Tony,” Bucky scoffed. “Can you believe that shit?”

“Strange times these are, Buck,” Steve grinned, returning Bucky’s kiss. He put his all into scattering kisses over Bucky’s face and jaw, until he finally pulled back and looked at the window.

“It started snowing. I won’t be able to sleep right now. Will you curl up on the couch with me?”

“The couch?” Bucky shot a sideways look at the now-offensive piece of furniture. “Er, no. How about the loveseat?”

"Is there a problem with the couch?" Steve frowned, obviously still not remembering the night before.

"Oh yeah," Bucky grimaced, "but we'll talk about it later."

“Can we fit on the loveseat?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bucky promised.

“Okay, well you’re dripping wet,” Steve pointed out. Bucky glanced down at himself. Yes. Yes, he was. His entire focus had been upon Steve, so he hadn’t stopped to think about it.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I’m a little wet now too.”

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky smiled. “Let’s go fix that, then we can snowgaze.” He pulled Steve from the kitchen island and toward their room. Once they changed into dry clothes, and Bucky had mostly dried his hair, they turned off the lights and went for the loveseat. They couldn’t move it, and unbolting it from the floor was too much of a hassle, but the angle was enough that they managed to cuddle up together and still be able to see outside.

“I can’t believe you threw that grate at me,” Bucky muttered, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.

“You kinda deserved it,” Steve answered as he slowly rubbed his cheek on Bucky’s crown. His translator was turned down almost as far as it could go and still be heard. Bucky didn’t actually mind it much; at such a low level, some of the digitized aspects were harder to hear. It almost sounded like Steve when he was too sleepy to emote.

“Besides, I didn’t throw it hard.”

“It rattled my teeth,” Bucky mock-whined.

“Pfft.” The translator didn’t have a noise for that, but it didn’t need one. It did repeat the strange noise that signaled a laugh. Or chuckle. Or whatever. Didn’t matter. Bucky was kinda getting used to it in a weird way. He felt a bit of Steve’s mood trickle through their sporadic connection, and it was enough to get rid of the nausea that was previously making him miserable. As long as they were awake and like this, he didn't have to worry about the nightmares.

 

_________________________________________________

 

Tony, still sporting damp pant legs from the rain, walked into the lab where the mood was decidedly grim. Ella and Edward were waiting for Bruce to stop reading the last printout from the cytometer. Not looking happy with what he read, he dropped the readout onto the table and sighed as Tony reached them.

“Tell me you can disprove this,” Ella quietly pleaded with him. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somewhere, Bruce.”

Bruce pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “Believe me, I’ve tried. I went over it several times just to make sure. I’m not find any holes in what either of you sent me. Maybe they're there, but I'm not seeing them. We can keep looking, but until we find something, we have to accept that this is happening.” He turned and leaned against the table to fully face them as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“So what are we gonna do about it? Hit me with everything you can think of because it’s gonna be a long night.” He shifted his eyes to Edward. "This is especially what we brought you in for. This is your forte, so by all means, if you're gonna dazzle us, do it now."

Edward rested his hands to his hips and shrugged helplessly. "I'm already on it, Bruce. I've been on it since we sent you that data."

“Wait, what are you on," Tony asked Edward nervously. "Can someone catch me up here? What’d I miss while I was channeling Oprah’s bloodhound?”

All three scientists turned to blink at him.

"Oprah's... what?" Ella looked to Bruce for clarification, but he seemed just as baffled as she was.

“You would totally lose at Jeopardy. Not what. Who. Dr. Phil...? There was brainwash angst again and... God, nevermind,” he waved. “What’s happening? What are we accepting?”

Tony studied the three as they exchanged glances between themselves. Obviously no one wanted to be the one to say whatever it was that needed said.

“Is this about Cap?”

All of them averted their eyes. Marcase had a decent poker face, but Ella had her arms crossed and her lips pressed to her fist. Bruce bowed his head a bit and chewed on the inside of his cheek. That was never a good sign. Not ever.

“C'mon, guys, throw me a bone here. Do I need to call Sam Wilson up here?”

Bruce rolled his neck and stared at the ceiling before finally looking at Tony. He silently nodded. This was definitely bad, and if it was this bad, they would have more than just Steve to deal with. Barnes... Bucky was already a short-fused bomb on the best of days. Tony didn't even want to think about what shape he'd be in if Steve took a turn for the worse.

“Shit,” Tony muttered. As he asked Jarvis to track down Steve’s best friend, he decided that he should probably dig out some of that Asgardian booze while he was at it.


	13. “This would be what they call scampering.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky decides that Steve needs to let go for a little bit. Steve receives some devastating news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to folks that send me little notes over on tumblr. Many of them are anon so I wanted to respond with a huge thank you here just to make sure you all know how much I appreciate them. You're all so kind. :)
> 
> Last chapter was a little shorter than usual, so I didn't bother to cut this one back in order to make up for that.
> 
> Enjoy, my little turtle doves! :D

Steve knew he was there. Bucky was as silent as they came, but there was no doubt in his mind that Steve was aware of him standing just outside the kitchen area, watching him as he methodically did dishes. He wasn’t sure why Steve didn’t have his modulator on, but his shoulders weren’t squared tensely. His movements were fluid, not stilted with anger. He actually seemed at ease for the first time in a while. Bucky could easily watch him like this for days and not be the least bit bored. 

Still… he had plans for his real-life Adonis.

“Stark has people for that, ya know.”

Steve shrugged and glanced over his shoulder… and wow. His smile was so sweet and so… Was bashful the right word? It was close enough. Bucky was used to words never doing his Stevie any real justice anyway. Today it was particularly true because Bucky’s heart kicked in his chest like it was trying to escape. There was so much love in that shy smile, and it was entirely aimed right at him.

Steve finished the last two plates and rinsed them off. He stood them upright on a towel, leaning against the backsplash of the counter top. Once he dried his hands, he signed to Bucky.

**Just felt good to do that again. Cleared my head a little.**

“Dishes?”

Steve’s mouth fell open and his shoulders shuddered in what should have been a soft laugh.

 _Heal,_ Bucky thought, trying to keep the sentiment from his expression. _Heal, so I can hear you again. I need to hear your voice so bad._

**Not so much the dishes… Just… I don’t know… doing my part like I used to.**

“You never needed to lift a single finger as far as I was concerned,” Bucky informed him quietly, knowing Steve was referring to before the war. “You could’ve painted and sketched all day and I woulda been happy to do that crap. You were a proud lil shit though, Stevie. Drove me nuts sometimes.”

 **But that’s even more reason why I wanted to do all that housewife stuff,** he explained, the small smile returning as he signed. **It was the only way I really got to take care of you back then. I liked looking after things in that way.**

Bucky crossed his arms with a light smirk. “For the love of god, Steve, don’t let Tony’s PR department hear you say that you did ‘housewife stuff’. They’ll tar and feather us both after they’ve had their collective stroke.”

**Why both of us… and since when do you care about PR?**

“I don’t care,” Bucky laughed. “That’s what everyone called ‘em back then. Now they’re just chores. I don’t really care either way, but I’ll care if someone starts giving you a hard time about it… and they’ll be in my face about it anyway because I’m such a bad influence on you.”

 **Oh they don’t even know the half of it,** Steve leered at Bucky, but the effect was quite different than intended considering the bright blush that bloomed from Steve’s cheeks down below his shirt collar. Bucky now knew how far that blush went, and if he didn’t nip this in the bud right now, they’d miss a really good opportunity.

“Are you done being domestic, Stevie?”

The grin on Steve’s face grew downright filthy. **Depends on which part of domestic you’re talking about.**

Bucky would absolutely be taking him up on that innuendo… just not right this second.

“Get comfortable for going outside,” Bucky grinned back, letting Steve know the veiled offer was not being ignored, just temporarily tabled.

 **We can’t go outside, Buck. I won’t risk that again,** Steve frowned resolutely, but Bucky shook his head quickly.

“Just the roof, Steve.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. If Bucky squinted, he looked just like that sourpuss little punk that used to excel at giving Bucky stress migraines.

**Why?**

“Fucksakes, Steve! I’m tryin’ to be spontaneous here! Tryin’ to be a little romantic for my punk ass boyfriend,” Bucky whined as he threw his hands up dramatically. He stabbed a finger into the air in Steve’s direction. “You’re still a lil shit! You’re just trapped inside a big, ripped body now!”

Steve pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and instantly looked sheepish. He seemed to suddenly remember he actually needed those hands to speak, and pulled them back out quickly. He smiled contritely at Bucky as he looked up through _those lashes_ and signed.

**So I’ve been told by the guy that still licks his hand to seal a bet.**

“And it ain’t changin’ anytime soon,” Bucky grumped with a sidelong glance at Steve, his arms again crossed over his chest. “Get yer coat, you infuriating lil fuck.”

Steve’s teeth flashed as he saluted and exited the kitchen. He gave Bucky’s ass a lascivious, beneath-the-fabric grope as he passed, making Bucky actually startle. He’d swear that Steve would end up being the death of him, but eh. Been there, done that. 

Twice.

___________________________

There are pros and cons to having a metal hand and arm, but some are far more important than others. 

Cons:  
Bucky really wished he could feel Steve. More than just the sense of pressure. He wished he could feel the textures unique to each part of Steve’s body. Sure, he could feel it with his right hand, but to have that sensation on both sides again now that they were lovers? That would be a fresh corner of heaven.

It’s generally considered incredibly rude to shove your literally-ice-cold hand down the back of your lover’s boxers. Or down the front of them. Or up their shirt. Or down their shirt.

And that was just no fun.

He hated having to think and focus just that little bit more to make sure he didn’t accidentally crush Steve’s cock while climaxing during a mutual handjob. Again, rude, and more to the point, he needed that cock for future use.

Have you ever seen someone’s face after they fell asleep with it resting upon a series of metal plates??

Pinching the skin of your own cock between said plates by accident. Nothing else needed to be said there.

Semen can, interestingly enough, discolor certain alloys after a time. Traction isn’t the only reason Bucky wears a glove these post-HYDRA days.

Pros:  
Oh there’s numerous, obvious benefits of having a badass prosthesis during battle, but the only real pro Bucky cared anything about right now had nothing to do with the grit of war. No, this pro was deceptively simple and straight-forward. 

Snow doesn’t melt inside a metal fist.

The perfectly compacted globe of white death nailed Steve square in the back of the head, and Bucky's arms shot up toward the heavens in triumph. Let it not be said that James “Bucky” Barnes couldn’t lob one helluva curveball.

He was in the process of grabbing his gut to laugh when return fire immediately caught him in the face, but that just made him wheeze with hysterical giggles. He wiped the dripping snow from his face and beamed at Steve, whose own glare was melting as quickly as the fastball he’d just pitched.

No words were spoken as the two took off for separate sections of the rooftop. There wasn’t a lot of built-in cover, so they both began forming small walls to duck behind. There wasn’t but a breath of wind tonight, and the snow had come down in a curtain of fat, wet flakes that were perfect for packing. There was already three feet accumulated, and Tony had readily agreed to let them have their fun before he activated the melting plates built into the roof. They were expecting quite a lot of snow, so it was likely they’d be able to do this again relatively soon if they wanted.

For now though…

Bucky cackled as he finished ahead of Steve and pummeled him with a few pre-packed snowballs. This was possibly some of the best shit ever. It would have been amazing if Steve’s health had permitted them this kind of fun before the war. When all this madness settled, Bucky was determined to go out to the cabin with Steve and stage snowball wars where their fun would only be limited to how long it took them to wear each other out.

With all those trees and bushes? Fucking A, it would be epic. Maybe they could even get Junior to rig them some mini trebuchets. The possibilities had Bucky grinning like an idiot, and Steve right along with him as they completely annihilated each other. Nothing was held back, and it was amazing.

Finally, Bucky had no choice but to call truce, but he did it gladly. As he caught his breath, he peered through the veil of snow where the lights of the Chrysler Building were softly muted by the precipitation. Steve lightly ruffled his wet hair to shake the film of fresh snow away, and Bucky smiled when Steve’s warm hand rested to the back of his neck. 

“I always did like that building.”

Steve followed his gaze across to the ornate skyscraper that was the wonder of its day, and still beloved by New Yorkers. He reached up to tap on his modulator, but then stopped, his other hand pulling away from Bucky’s neck to start signing.

**Then we probably shouldn’t be the ones to clear it out.**

Bucky blinked, then looked up at Steve. His boyfriend was grinning at his own joke like the jerk he was. 

“Dick,” Bucky grunted, giving Steve a good-natured shove. It just made him laugh harder, evidenced by the short bursts of freezing air huffing from his mouth.

**I have it on good authority that you love my dick.**

“So crude,” Bucky winced. “When did you get to be so crude?”

**My best friend. He’s rubbing off on me. Really bad influence.**

Bucky snorted loudly and his own little ice cloud erupted into the air. “Asshole.”

**Pretty sure you like that too.**

Realizing he’d walked directly into that one, Bucky scooped up a fistful of snow and got Steve into a headlock. He shoved the snow down the front of Steve’s pants, then let him go. Steve didn’t even try to fight him that much; he was laughing too hard. He grimaced a little and shifted around, but his eyes were bright with love as he wiped at them. His eyes shifted from Bucky to the tower in front of them.

**I remember how excited you were when we heard about it. There was a race to build the new tallest building in the world. You collected all those newspaper articles about it, and we saved up to take the bus to the island when we thought it was done.**

“But they didn’t have the spire up yet,” Bucky nodded. “My uncle wasn’t usually crazy over new buildings, but she was somethin’ else.”

**Yeah, he brought us down to see it when the gargoyles and eagles were done.**

“Yeah, that was a good day,” Bucky remembered, but he peered over at Steve curiously. “I always wondered… You couldn’t see much for anything back then, and you wouldn’t wear glasses. How much could you even see of it?”

 **Hardly anything,** Steve admitted with a shrug.

“But you looked so impressed.”

**I could see you just fine. Your reaction was enough.**

Bucky wasn’t sure his heart could beat any harder for this man next to him. They shared a long look, and Steve seemed to be as content with the moment as Bucky was. He reached for Bucky’s hand and curled their fingers together. 

“I wouldn’t drop that gorgeous ol’ gal on us,” Bucky whispered to Steve, the sentiment going beyond the building itself. Steve caught the meaning well enough, and just smiled back sweetly with a squeeze to Bucky’s fingers. In truth, Bucky could have stayed there with Steve quite a while, enjoying the peaceful silence between them, but he desperately wanted to go back to their suite. He needed Steve’s hands on him. He needed to be inside the circle of those arms, and hear that heart beating beneath his ear.

“Okay, okay… I think my eyelashes are frozen. Not interested in re-visiting that.” He meant it as a crude joke, but wished he could take it back when Steve looked up at him. His face looked stricken with remorse, and Bucky was still scrambling for something to say that would dissipate the sudden downturn in mood when Steve pulled his hand away and unhappily signed to him.

**I think my dick is frozen to my pantleg.**

___________________________

_Bucky heard the commotion before he saw it, but he rounded the corner just as Steve’s flatcap was knocked from his head. Bucky took a step back into the shadow of the warehouse, and rolled his eyes. In the ten minutes he’d left Steve alone, Steve had managed to stir up some kind of shit again. All Bucky had asked for was a few sane minutes to pick up his check so they could restock the pantry this weekend, but Steve was…_

_Well, Steve was Steve, and he’d have a fit if Bucky charged in over something as simple as his hat being knocked off. Bucky pulled a cigarette out and lit it, his pale blue eyes never leaving Steve as he took his first, long pull of smoke. Steve would also have a fit about Bucky smoking, but it served him right. With as many near heart attacks as Steve gave him, he had every right to indulge in something as soothing as a good puff of tobacco. People made occasional noises about smoking making people age too fast, but Steve was doing that to Bucky just by being a self-righteous little hothead, so whatever. Not that Bucky would change Steve for anything, but there was something to be said for making it through a single week without getting popped in the mouth or socked in the eye while bailing Steve out of a fight he had no hope of winning._

_The two men that were harassing Steve were getting a bit rough now, causing Bucky to perk up more. One scooped Steve’s hat off the sidewalk and flicked it into the gentle ripples of the shoreline. Of course Steve went after it, nevermind the fact that he had no business getting wet when the weather was only just starting to warm up enough to forego a heavier coat. He’d no sooner taken a couple of steps into the water when the second man gave him a hard shove. Both men laughed, throwing derogatory phrases at Steve as they waded in after him._

_“Fucksakes,” Bucky sighed. He’d already started toward the trio when he saw Steve’s hat go into the water, but now he picked up his pace and flicked his cigarette away. The moment he saw the second man put his foot onto Steve’s back to hold him under the water, Bucky broke into an infuriated sprint. He launched himself at the second man, sending them both into the placid surf. Steve came up sputtering, trying to clear the water from his eyes as Bucky grabbed a fistful of the second guy’s shirt and popped him twice in the face._

_He hadn’t turned back around yet when he heard the splash of water behind him. The first attacker was coming at him, but Steve had tried to throw him off balance. The man threw him aside, the resulting thud of Steve hitting the water being what Bucky heard as he righted himself. The effort bought him just enough time to keep from being caught off guard, and kicked Bucky’s temper well into overdrive. The next moments went blurry, but then the world snapped back into focus when he heard Steve yelling at him to stop._

_“Buck, stop! You knock ‘im out and he’ll drown!”_

_Bucky blinked down at Steve, then down at the man as shouts from his fellow dock workers reached him._

_“Atta boy, Bucky! Prissy assholes don’ belong down here nohow!”_

_Bucky shook his head and swiped his hair back from his eyes, coughing up a mouthful of water then spitting it into the river._

_“C’mon, Steve,” he rasped. Steve was turning away from him to search the water’s surface for his hat though._

_“Yeah sure, just lemme get my-”_

_Bucky didn’t give him the chance to finish. He hefted Steve over his shoulder and ignored the frail kid’s furious bellowing as he trudged back up the river bank. Steve thrashed wildly, and the profanity coming out of his mouth was frankly shocking, but Bucky continued to ignore it as he gave an exhausted wave toward his co-workers._

_They were three blocks away and tucked into an alley when Bucky finally felt level-headed enough to put Steve down. The steady, indignant stream coming out of Steve’s mouth had stopped about a block ago, and Bucky was now mourning the sodden mess that was his pack of cigarettes. He almost didn’t hear Steve when he called Bucky’s name._

_“Buck…?”_

_Bucky turned to look at Steve._

_Then caught a surprisingly hard right hook to the side of his mouth for his trouble._

_He blinked and rubbed at his lip, stunned that his fingers came away tinged with blood._

_“The hell was that for?!”_

_“Don’t you ever throw me over your shoulder like some helpless dame again, do you hear me? Do you even get how humiliating that was?” Steve was shaking from more than just cold water._

_Bucky’s eyebrows arched skyward as he gaped at the soggy, red-faced punk before him. “You mean more humiliating than nearly getting your ass drowned over a fucking hat, Steve?”_

_“Your dock buddies were hooting and whistling like I was some bride you were carrying home!”_

_“Well home WAS the destination,” Bucky shrugged, trying to defuse the situation, but Steve socked him in the arm. “Hey! Stop hitting me! Better yet, stop pickin’ fights, damn it! You got no business being sopping wet! Y’shoulda let ‘em toss the damn cap. We coulda gotten you another one! You’ll be hacking up a fucking lung by tomorrow!”_

_“I’ll be fine, Bucky!”_

_“Yeah, that’s what you always say right up ‘til your lips start turning blue an’ I gotta hold your head over a steaming pot!” Bucky pointed a finger at Steve. “Knock it off! You let people get under your skin over stuff that’s not important, Steve!”_

_“I didn’t ask you to come charging in, Bucky!”_

_“You didn’t have to! I’m not gonna stand there and finish my smoke while two assholes fuckin’ drown you! It’s just not gonna happen, Steve!”_

_Steve turned and stormed down the street, his hands shoved angrily into his pockets as he huffed and wheezed. He kept having to flick his hair to the side as water dripped from his bangs. Bucky followed with another roll of his eyes._

_Men with grey hair were considered distinguished. At least he’d have that going for him..._

______________________________________________

 

They entered the suite and Steve immediately herded Bucky into the bathroom. Bucky stood there bemused as Steve began peeling the wet, slightly frozen fabric from Bucky’s skin. Normally, he’d be protesting that he could undress himself, especially when he was in a critical part of his post-HYDRA recovery. Now, though? Now he could allow himself to bask in the attention, the adoration. He could relish the little brushes of Steve’s fingertips, and the way he kept sticking his hand into the shower to check the temperature of the water. He’d damn near scalded himself in the past when he’d had flashbacks of the cryo, or of the fall. Steve had been beside himself over it until one day he’d simply climbed in behind Bucky and just held onto him. It was the safest he’d remembered feeling up to that point. Of course when it occurred to him that Steve was under the scalding water with him, and what that entailed, he’d had a minor fit over it.

Steve had just let him.

Bucky’s brain caught up again, and he quickly focused his attention upon Steve. The soldier before him could still be set off at times by the feel of being wet and too cold. He didn’t go into the same types of episodes that Bucky did, but the aversion was there, and Bucky didn’t want anything ruining this little bubble of serenity they had going on. He gently pushed Steve’s hands aside and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. Once he rid Steve of his pants as well, Bucky stepped close and wrapped his right arm around Steve’s waist. Sliding his hand up, he pressed his palm to Steve’s shoulder blade and brought them closer. He wanted Steve to feel his body heat like this before they got into the shower.

Steve’s response was to pointedly pull Bucky’s left arm around his waist. When Bucky tried to pull it back, Steve’s jaw squared stubbornly as he held it in place.

“S’cold, Stevie,” he protested quietly. Steve’s nose wrinkled up as he put fingers to Bucky’s lips to shush him.

 **I’ve felt much colder,** he signed, then wrapped his arms around Bucky. That was exactly what Bucky had wanted, so he carefully tightened his hold upon Steve and pressed kisses across the skin of his shoulder. He felt a low rumble of approval in Steve’s chest so he continued until Steve guided them into the shower. While they both ran warmer body temperatures than unenhanced humans, Steve’s core temperature ran hotter than Bucky’s. Having that warmth pressed against his skin before they stepped into the shower kept the heat of the water from being a shock, and Bucky groaned in pleasure as the steady streams massaged the dull ache from his left side. He’d learned long ago to ignore it, but this felt too good not to appreciate it for the wonder that it was. He might even thank Junior later… or at least ask him to install one of these into their DC apartment.

Steve’s fingers started to tenderly knead at the areas connected to Bucky’s prosthetic, and Bucky let his head fall forward to press his forehead to the tile wall. Steve kept at it, adding to the relaxation of the hot water, but then his hands went further down Bucky’s left side. This was an area that rarely got this kind of attention, and Bucky groaned again, setting his left hand upon the tile ledge so Steve could better access it. When he seemed satisfied that he’d worked the area beneath Bucky’s arm, he moved his fingers along the muscles to the left of Bucky’s spine. It felt so amazing that Bucky was nearly in tears. Steve had never touched him this way before; the most he'd received had been light, reassuring strokes of Steve's palm when Bucky needed the grounding of human touch. This was so far beyond that though; it was more than a promise of brotherly support. This was a promise of forever, sealed with the firm press of Steve’s lips between his shoulders when he was done. Steve managed to convey that depth of feeling through the skill of those talented hands, and the gentle press of his body.

Bucky turned and managed to pull Steve into a deep kiss, despite his sluggish limbs. He cradled Steve’s face as if it could easily break, and plied him with grateful kisses. When he pulled back, Steve’s expression was happy, but his eyes were somewhat puzzled.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered against his lips. Steve blinked back at him.

 **Intense thanks for a massage,** he smiled as he signed.

“For loving me the way you do,” Bucky clarified, “but also…best massage ever.”

**Ever..?**

“Yeah, ever.”

 **I can do way better than that, Buck.** Steve gave him a coy look as his smile grew. **If you’re warm enough, let’s get out of here and I’ll show you.**

“Stevie, even if I wasn’t warmed up by now, I have plans for you that’ll get us there,” Bucky vowed with a grin of his own. “I’ll take ya up on that massage later though,” he winked.

Steve’s grin widened across his face, pinching up his cheeks as he pulled Bucky from the shower and tossed a towel to him. They both dried off, and Bucky froze when Steve reached over and ruffled Bucky’s hair up with his towel. Unsure of how to react, Bucky simply stood silent and perplexed. He wasn’t having a setback, nor was he in shock. Steve caught the look of bewilderment and started his clicking laughter. He tapped his translator on and went back to toweling out Bucky’s hair.

“Not like I haven’t done this before.”

“I’m not in shock,” Bucky murmured. “Not triggered.”

“And you think that should be the only time I get to do this?”

“No… I mean-”

Steve cut him off by putting his palm lightly to Bucky’s lips. When he removed his hand, it was to replace it with a short swipe of his own lips across Bucky’s.

“This would be what they call scampering.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot upward, and Steve looked horrified… then pissed. He tapped off and signed quickly.

 **Pampering! Spoiling! Indulging!** Steve rubbed his hands over his face and grimaced apologetically. **Wow, that sucked,** he moped, his shoulders slumping dejectedly.

Bucky stared back at Steve until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. His bottom lip quivered for a split second before he burst out laughing. Steve tried to look deeply annoyed.

 **Fuck, I hate this thing,** he groused, but Bucky wasn’t having any of that and just laughed harder.

“I dunno, I think I’m kinda starting to like it,” he wheezed, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. Steve just nodded and folded his arms over his chest, trying to maintain his unimpressed glower. Bucky just sidled up to him and ran his fingertips through the few droplets still clinging to Steve’s skin.

“C’mon, Stevie,” he growled under his breath, looking up at Steve with his best come-hither gaze, “tell me all about scampering…”

He was over Steve’s shoulder before he could do much more than blink. 

“Hey, you can’t just haul me over your shoulder,” he bellowed, his grin nearly splitting his face as blood rushed to his head. “I’m a world-class sniper! I’m the deadliest assassin ever! I’ve got a metal arm, for fucksakes!”

Steve turned his head to bite at Bucky’s hip, but the man simply had no love handles to speak of. He was also still damp everywhere, so Steve’s teeth really found no purchase with the awkward angle. What he did manage was to send a jolt of jitters under Bucky’s skin and up his spine. He jerked away from Steve’s mouth and gasped. Steve’s shoulders vibrated with a silent chuckle, and he repeated the action. This time Bucky twitched violently and squeaked loudly. He tried to swat at Steve’s ass in retaliation, but another skimming bite had his legs kicking and his arms flailing wildly before he could make contact. 

“Steve!” He gasped again and yelped Steve’s name, going very still as his brain caught up to what had just happened. Feeling the sudden change, Steve froze as well. His hand squeezed lightly at Bucky’s hip.

“Buck?”

“Steve… Stevie…! I… You… That… It _tickled_ , Steve!”

He hadn’t been ticklish since HYDRA beat it out of him. Now, for some miraculous reason, his body decided it was okay with returning to its former sensitivity. Most people wouldn’t consider becoming ticklish a wondrous thing, but Bucky was fucking ecstatic. Another slice of normality to grip tight to his chest. Another tiny piece of the past he could reclaim.

“Bucky…” It was all Steve said, but with the way he rubbed his cheek to Bucky’s hip and hugged his thighs tight, Bucky could easily imagine the way Steve would have breathed out his name. It would be be a soft sigh of happiness dripping with relief. Bucky did his best to hug Steve back as he pressed a kiss to the skin just above the towel that was wrapped around Steve’s waist. 

“Okay put me down,” Bucky grinned against Steve’s back. He literally shrieked with laughter when Steve landed a hard smack to his bare ass, and tossed him onto their bed. Catching his breath, he beamed up at Steve.

“Should I punch that gorgeous face of yours for pulling that stunt, punk?”

Steve’s mouth quirked to the side as his eyes roamed the lines of Bucky’s body, then he reached up to tap off his translator.

**I have a much more enjoyable contact sport in mind... if you're game.**

Bucky licked at his lip then lunged forward, latching onto Steve’s towel and jerking it away from his waist. He fell back onto the bed and hurled the towel aside as he stretched his body out enticingly. His smile turned filthy as he curled his finger to lure Steve in.

“Now,” he commanded. “Right now.”

Sometimes Steve Rogers was really, really good at following orders.

___________________________

“Steve…? Can we try something…? Something… new?”

They were curled together, Steve spooned around Bucky as they watched the snow start to fall with more purpose just outside their window. Bucky’s cheek was pillowed upon Steve’s bicep, his flesh fingers trailing back and forth over Steve’s forearm. Steve pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck and tucked his free arm more securely about Bucky’s torso. He rested his palm against Bucky’s heart.

“You could ask for an awful lot and get it right now. What did you have in mind?”

“I uh… Well, there’s this thing…” he began, feeling nervous as a teenager again. He patted Steve’s arm to signal that he wanted up. “Here uh… lemme just get it?”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice would have carried a bit of question in it; Bucky could tell that without even seeing the curious furrow of Steve’s brows. Bucky was getting much better at ignoring the flat intonation of the modulator though. Maybe Tony could eventually give Steve more inflection.

Bucky’s mind recoiled from that thought. Steve was going to get better. The modulator was only temporary. That had to be the way it played out. Bucky would not allow himself to imagine anything less than that as he pulled open his drawer in their dresser. He pushed his underwear aside and withdrew the two items he’d hidden there. He pulled them behind his back as he turned back toward the bed. His stomach was doing flips as he crawled back onto the bed and curled his legs up close to Steve’s.

“Okay… I uh… I had this delivered from the one shop downstairs… You know the one that’s VIP only…?”

It took Steve a second, but then his eyes widened. “You mean the sex toy shop?”

“Yeah…?” Bucky couldn’t believe he was this nervous. He’d been the adventurous one before the war, bold and self-assured. Now he felt like he’d been dumped back to his days of dealing with puberty.

“Look, if you don’t like the idea, all ya gotta do is say so, Stevie. It’s just something I was curious about trying and-”

“Bucky, why don’t you show me what you got before you worry about me not liking it?” The warmth and openness in Steve’s eyes soothed so much of Bucky’s nerves that he physically felt his body relaxing. He was still a little hesitant as he pulled the toy from behind his back though. He held it up for Steve’s inspection, and felt his heart kick inside his chest when Steve’s pupils instantly expanded.

The plug that rested in Bucky’s palm wasn’t that big. It was meant to be snug, but not obscene. It was the other item in Bucky’s hand that had them both intrigued. Bucky could see it in the way Steve ran his fingers over the tiny remote control.

“Only if ya want, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, unable to help the anticipatory smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Damn right, I want,” Steve answered, the modulator’s volume still low. It was definitely an answer that Bucky appreciated hearing, even if it was digitized. “Would you wear it first, or would I?”

“I was thinkin’ maybe you could wear it while I ride you,” Bucky answered, and immediately bit at his lip as Steve stared at him, then down at the plug.

“Oh my god.” When he lifted his eyes to Bucky’s again, they were smoldering with desire. “Yes. Definitely yes. Open me up. I want to feel this…” 

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed, and pressed his fingers lightly to Steve’s chest. “Lay back, doll… I’m gonna take such good care of you…”

"You always do," Steve smiled, and Bucky was determined to not make a liar of him.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The time they’d been denied in Los Angeles was something Bucky never wanted to stop making up for. Not that he’d trade those precious hours, but he’d made a promise to himself to hear Steve get good and loud any way that he could. That particular promise would have to wait, but that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t practice. By the time Steve healed, Bucky planned on knowing Steve’s every little dip and spot that made him lose his mind. Bucky excelled at some truly horrible things. Now he was going to excel at something really fucking glorious.

Steve was covered in sweat by the time Bucky deigned him fit for a third finger a half hour later. He could see that Steve was fighting with his own impatience, and Bucky couldn’t love him more for it. He would make it worth Steve’s every effort as his boyfriend bit his lip and writhed beneath Bucky’s talented hands. He watched Steve’s face carefully as he tried to brush against Steve’s prostate again. Each time he went looking for it, he found it a little faster, evidence by the way Steve’s hips arched sharply up from the bed. This time when he found it, Steve’s fingertips ripped small holes through the fitted sheet, and it made Bucky insanely proud of himself.

If he pushed Steve much further, he’d never last through the plug. That was just not in the game plan at all, so Bucky slowly removed his fingers and crawled up Steve’s body to ply him with fervent kisses. In between each one, Bucky felt Steve’s lips moving in the same pattern. He realized that Steve was saying his name. Unable to help himself, Steve was silently repeating Bucky’s name against his lips. It nearly unraveled Bucky, and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. Just knowing that his name was the only thing Steve could manage was intensely hot, and sent sparks shooting all through his body.

“Shit, Stevie,” he rasped, “we might have to give this more than one attempt… I’m so fucking close already…”

Still panting from his own exertions, Steve reached out for him, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as he initiated another searing kiss. It almost made the problem worse even though it was meant to give them both a moment to back away from the edge they were both riding.

Steve must have had better luck with reining himself in, because he pulled one hand back to tap on his translator.

“I’m good. Good. Good to go. Go, Buck.”

Bucky’s breath caught at the strange repetition until he realized the modulator was translating what would be close to a stutter. Just to be certain though, Bucky ran his fingers over the side of Steve’s face and then through his hair.

“Yeah…? You’re good, baby?”

Steve blinked at the new endearment, but then nodded with an eager smile.

“Green,” he answered, then tapped back off. Bucky was almost curious to know what would spill from the tiny speaker while Steve was coming apart, but that was a test for a different day. There was too much amazing tension between them now, and Bucky wasn’t about to risk any mishaps before it was allowed to properly erupt.

Bucky gave Steve a soft nod of his head, then crawled back down the mattress, dragging his lips over Steve’s skin as he went. Steve’s hands shifted back and forth over the sheets, desperate for any kind of movement.

“Shhh, ‘m right here,” Bucky soothed as he popped the cap on the lube. The crease of Steve’s ass was already glistening with slick, but Bucky squeeze out a bit to smooth over the plug.

“Ready, Stevie…?” he asked softly as he brushed the tip lightly over Steve’s entrance. Steve forced his eyes open and nodded to Bucky, his gaze glassy but seemingly determined to try and watch. Bucky’s own gaze remained fixed upon Steve’s face as he gently pushed the plug forward. Steve eventually lost his battle and his eyes rolled back. His head fell against the pillows, and his hips rolled slightly to help the plug’s progress. When the flare was almost to his hole, he hissed a little and his mouth fell open. His face was still relaxed enough that Bucky knew he only needed to give him a couple extra seconds to accept the stretch.

The ring of muscle finally gave enough for the plug to slip inside with a short burst of movement. Bucky pulled his hands away as Steve hiccupped softly. He watched, captivated as Steve writhed mindlessly while he got used to the feel of the plug. If the package was to be taken at its word, the toy should be resting right against Steve’s prostate. That had to feel pretty intense given Steve’s enhanced sensitivity. Bucky couldn’t wait to try it himself. He made do with giving the plug a little wiggle once Steve calmed slightly. It earned him a sharp thrash of Steve’s hips and a loud hiss.

“Gimme a color,” he whispered.

Steve slowly spelled it out with his right hand: Green.

Bucky smiled as he snatched up the remote and straddled Steve. He situated himself so he could lightly rub his ass against Steve’s restless cock, and breathed out a groan as it twitched and pushed insistently against him. He was trying to ease Steve into the increase of stimulation so he wouldn’t blow the moment Bucky turned on the plug. He really wanted to prolong the moment for as long as he could.

“God,” he murmured as he stared at the trails of precum streaking Steve’s stomach. There was so much of it, and Bucky had the worst primal urge to rub his own cock through it and add some of his own. He filed it as one more fantasy to indulge in later as he shifted back to run his slicked palm over Steve’s cock. A popping noise rolled up from Steve’s throat, and Bucky knew it was a growl. A very appreciative growl, one that went straight to Bucky’s gut. He reached for Steve’s hand and dribbled a little lube over his fingertips, then guided Steve to his entrance. Steve’s eyes flared and he hissed again. Bucky groaned loudly for them both as Steve wasted no time pushing two fingers inside. Bucky knew enough to keep Steve focused so he wouldn’t topple over the edge too soon.

Bucky sighed and rolled his hips around as Steve slowly fingered him. He put a hand to Steve’s wrist each time he tried to scissor his fingers too much. Bucky had very specific ideas about how he wanted it to feel when Steve finally entered him, so he didn’t want to be fully stretched. He wanted that bit of burn, wanted to feel every bit of Steve. He wanted to be good and tight so he’d feel more of the vibrations radiating out from the plug when he finally turned it on. Bucky’s head fell back just imagining it.

He gently pulled Steve’s hand away a few moments later, and nipped softly at the side of his palm. Steve pursed his lips as he dropped his hand to wrap it loosely around Bucky’s cock. Bucky grunted softly as Steve’s thumb came to rest just under the head, rubbing ever-so-slightly over the insanely sensitive spot. He reached back for Steve’s cock, and lined himself up before lowering himself slowly onto Steve. His head fell forward when he was halfway down, needing a moment to adjust, and Steve’s other hand found his jaw. Fingers stroked lightly over his stubble, then Steve was pulling himself upright to kiss Bucky again. Bucky felt the movement of Steve wiping off his hand on Bucky’s discarded towel, then both his hands came up to cup Bucky’s face. The longer they kissed, the more Bucky felt himself relaxing and taking a bit more of Steve inside.

There was one more thing Bucky wanted for himself. He broke their kiss and dragged his lips along Steve’s jaw until he reached Steve’s ear.

“Finish for me…”

Steve pulled back and searched his eyes. Bucky heatedly gazed back, hoping Steve would understand. He didn’t want to spell it out so he hoped his expression said enough for him. Steve’s hands roamed over his body, then down to cup his ass. He dug his fingertips into the sweat-damp flesh, watching Bucky intently. Bucky growled and arched his back, his physical stamp of approval. It was apparently the answer Steve was looking for because he tightened his grip and thrust upward to fully seat himself inside Bucky’s body. 

Bucky threw his head back and yelled. The burn was just sharp enough to put him right where he wanted, riding that edge along with Steve. Everything tingled and sparked just under his skin, so when Steve’s hands started to roam again, all Bucky could do was pant and moan.

Somehow he managed to push the button on the remote.

If Steve hadn’t latched onto Bucky’s hips at that moment, he would have likely thrown Bucky from the bed. Steve’s body convulsed so abruptly that Bucky yelped at the fresh wave of burning tingles that shot through him. Steve didn’t climax, but his head tipped back and his mouth hung open as he panted through twitches and spasms. It was fucking beautiful and Bucky was so proud of him. So in awe.

“Gorgeous,” he gasped against Steve’s bared throat. “So gorgeous…”

Steve sagged backward but kept his grip upon Bucky’s hips. Bucky lifted slightly, testing the sting of real movement. It was right where he wanted, so he dropped back down. Steve’s fingers dug into Bucky’s flesh. These were the bruises he wanted to keep far longer than his body would allow, but that just meant repeat performances.

He began to rock his hips against Steve, a soft whine escaping his throat as Steve moved with him. Each time he gave a small thrust, Steve shuddered, the plug obviously doing its job with flying colors. Bucky waited until they found a rhythm that worked for them, then pressed the button on the remote again. This time he felt a bit of the vibration. Steve’s hips froze as his back arched, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode out the change. Bucky fell forward, resting his hands on either side of Steve’s shoulders. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s chest as they both gasped through the sensations they were feeling while Bucky minutely rolled his hips.

When Steve had relaxed back into the mattress, Bucky looked up at him through his sweaty bangs and smiled weakly. This would definitely be the last click for this round; there was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that setting three would tip them over. At this point, there would be nothing left of either of them if they tried setting four. 

“One more…?”

Steve nodded immediately, and Bucky understood why. He’d read about edging and how it intensified each time a man was brought close to orgasm and then denied release. Bucky knew what he was feeling without having much of the vibration reaching him, so he could only imagine how blitzed Steve had to be feeling. Each new sensation had brought Steve right to the precipice of climax, but then he’d managed to calm himself enough to hold it back. Knowing Steve had done it for him had a powerful effect upon Bucky. He saw everything through a soft haze, but his sense of touch was razor sharp and vivid. It was almost beyond his ability to describe, but he’d do his best once they were sated and coherent again.

Bucky bent his head and kissed Steve, then he pressed the button.

The vibrations felt much stronger. Paired with Steve writhing frantically beneath him, Bucky felt the fabric of their mattress give beneath his fingers as he tried to establish a rhythm with Steve. He’d never felt anything this intense that was still erotic and pleasurable. His brain was soft around the edges, almost like being drunk again. This could definitely become addicting. He couldn’t wait to hear Steve’s side of the whole experience.

Beneath him, Steve had once again managed to gather enough of his wits back about him to last a little longer. Bucky began to move faster, floating along on the new high he’d discovered. He was falling into a fantastic push and pull with Steve when he noticed it. Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut, but now his lips were moving again. Seeing his name falling from Steve’s lips with such reverence hit Bucky with an unexpected surge of emotion. His orgasm exploded through him so suddenly that he had no chance to warn Steve. He felt like his body was going every direction possible even as Steve threw his arms tightly about him in a vice-like grip. He shook against Bucky as he also came, silently screaming against Bucky’s shoulder. All Bucky could do was hang on as he felt their connection engage. They both jerked and startled as they fell into a feedback loop, then it all dimmed and fell silent.

Bucky sucked in a sharp inhale of breath as his eyes fluttered open. He knew he'd lost time only because he was now curled against Steve’s side. He didn’t feel the usual hangover that came with an episode, so he knew he hadn’t been triggered. He looked up at Steve, still too heavy-limbed to do much more than shift his eyes upward.

“Feedback loop,” came the soft reply of the modulator. “Fried our circuits for a couple minutes.”

“I’m… sorry?” Bucky ventured, his voice rough and weak.

“No you’re not,” Steve answered with a subtle curve to his lips, “and neither am I.”

“No?” Bucky asked hopefully. That was the most amazing thing they’d tried so far and he really hoped Steve would want to do it again. Soon. Like first possible chance they got.

“You’re amazing, Buck,” Steve informed him with his eyes saying everything his monotone voice couldn’t. “I could do without blacking out, but that was incredible. You were incredible.”

“Thanks,” Bucky grinned, his brain still not forming more than simple sentences.

“You okay?” Steve asked with a hint of a concerned frown. Bucky managed to nod, then curled closer to Steve.

“I’m fucking fantastic,” he murmured as he rested his cheek to Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re swearing. You’re okay.” Steve’s body relaxed knowing Bucky hadn’t somehow harmed himself. It just made the warm glow enveloping him feel that much cozier. Steve’s heart was beating strong and sure beneath his hand, and nothing was wrong with the world right here within their little bubble.

“Nap w’me Stevie,” he whispered, fighting off sleep. 

“Okay.” Steve’s arm tightened around him, and the thin underbedding was pulled up and over his shoulders. “I love you, Buck.”

“Love you,” Bucky drawled as he tried so hard to stay awake just long enough to say it properly. He only mustered enough energy to press half a kiss to Steve’s skin before he was pulled beneath sleep’s gentle tide.

___________________________

 

The sharp, rolling ring jarred Steve awake, but he was too disoriented to act immediately. Beside him, a soft grunt preceded movement, and a metal arm whirred as it gestured past his face like a warped scene out of a Dickens novel.

“S’a phone Stevie… Get th’phone.”

Steve jerked his head to the side and stared at the odd, rotary phone on their nightstand. Tony had installed it in the room as a joke, but Steve hadn’t noticed it right away. Of course, Bucky had, and he’d taken great pleasure informing Stark that it was the wrong era. They hadn’t had their own phone anyway. Bucky said his parents had, but that had been because of Bucky’s father being in the military. No one bothered to take it back after his death, so the novelty stayed put but was rarely used. 

Steve picked up the receiver and squeezed his eyes shut when he only managed a hiss as a greeting. He tapped on the modulator and tried again.

“Hello?”

“Steve, it’s Bruce.” He was talking quietly. “Can you come down to the lab alone? We need to talk to you... without Bucky.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to his boyfriend, who was already starting to snore softly. The feedback loop had exhausted them both, but Bucky seemed to take a harder hit than Steve. It had wiped him out, but it seemed to be in a positive way. Bucky was sleeping more soundly than Steve had seen him manage since the days when he could still easily get drunk.

“Okay,” he answered, keeping his response short before hanging up. He wanted to ask more, but he didn’t want to rouse Bucky too much. He needed the rest with his system also still fighting the effects of the infection.

Once he gently untangled himself from Bucky’s possessive grip, he eased off the bed and dressed. Feeling the absence even in his sleep, Bucky snuffled softly and shifted closer to Steve’s side of the bed to burrow himself into the pocket of warmth Steve left. Steve’s heart squeezed within his chest. He had no idea what Bruce wanted, but the request to leave Bucky behind couldn’t be a good sign.

It only took him a few minutes to reach the lab, and the somber expression upon Bruce’s face did nothing to ease his worry. Behind Bruce, Ella looked just as grim. He tapped his translator on as his eyes flicked warily between them.

“What is it?”

“Grab a seat, Steve.”

“Rather not,” Steve answered Bruce sharply. He’d noticed that his translator misfired more when he was agitated, so he focused upon keeping his answers concise. “I left Bucky asleep with no note.”

“We’ll be quick,” Ella promised.

Steve gave her more of a glare than he probably would have otherwise, but she was an easy target for his souring mood.

“Spit it out.”

“Steve, the booster shots aren’t doing enough.” Bruce waited while Steve’s brain absorbed the statement and all the fears that hid within its shadows. “We haven’t been able to slow down the virus enough for the serum to start reversing it. We'd hoped that we could at least keep it in check until we could find something more effective, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Which means…?”

Bruce seemed unable to answer immediately, so Ella took the burden from him.

“It means the virus is winning right now, Steve. You’ll eventually… devolve… and fully mutate.”

“You mean… I’ll become one of them?” Steve felt like all the blood was draining from his body as Ella nodded slowly.

Steve sat down.

It seemed like his body could just go limp right then. Strangely, he wasn’t that upset for himself. Not yet anyway. Right now, all he could think of was Bucky. Who would watch out for him? Who would instill new reasons for him to go on? Steve remembered the anguished words Bucky had used as he plead with Steve for understanding after he’d infected himself. But then-

“Is Bucky dying too?”

“No,” Ella answered quickly. “His body is slowly repairing itself. It’s a snail’s pace, but his viral load is dropping slightly each time we test.”

Tears welled and spilled from Steve’s eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. He was grateful, but only as far the physical aspect. Beating the virus wouldn’t do Bucky any good if he was hell-bent upon following Steve into the hereafter.

Sam. Sam could help him. Sam helped everyone. Sam and Natasha.

“What are my options? What else can we try?”

“We’re debating on a possible course of action but it would be a huge risk,” Bruce answered him carefully, not looking entirely convinced. Steve didn’t care though. He held up one finger.

“I cannot leave Bucky.” He pointed toward the wall to imply the chaos outside the security of the tower. “I cannot become one of those things.”

“No argument there, Steve,” Bruce agreed softly. “This is why we wanted to talk to you alone first. We both thought it’d be better that Bucky hear this from you, especially since Ella’s on his shit list.”

Steve rolled his eyes in frustration. He needed to be able to speak his mind freely and precisely, and he was already tired of concentrating on his words.

“Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers,” the AI responded with a note of sorrow filtering into his tone.

“Translate please?”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve tapped off his modulator and began to rapid-fire sign. Jarvis dutifully spoke for him.

“You’re right. He’s not going to take this well. If I die, he’ll likely try to follow me again, and I can’t let that happen. Ella, you’re not my favorite person right now, but if you have a plan, then you’d better tell me. You fix this, and I’ll sing your praises to the entire world, because saving me will save him. I just got him back. We just found each other. He deserves to have more happiness than he can stand You have to fix this, so tell me your idea.”

Ella didn’t break his gaze even as she swiped a finger beneath her eyes and nodded sadly. She pointed to the vials Bruce had on the counter beside him. Twelve racks of them, all nestled into cooling trays.

“Okay… we… we flood your system with ridiculously large doses of the booster every three to six hours, depending upon how your body handles the first massive dose.”

Steve’s eyes darted back and forth until he heard the gentle stirring of the lab door. He gave a short nod to Dr. Marcase as he entered, then started signing again.

“That doesn’t sound like the end of the world, but you said the booster wasn’t working,” Jarvis translated for him.

“In the safe dosages, it’s not,” Dr. Marcase replied, pushing his hands into pockets of his cargo pants. “In the levels we’re intending to use, it should work.”

“But-” Steve hedged, taking in Marcase’s weary eyes and carefully neutral expression.

“It might kill you,” the doctor answered bluntly, causing both Ella and Bruce to flinch. “It’ll probably be like six rounds of chemo all in one go, but we’re not seeing a viable alternative yet. Your physiology’s greatest strengths are huge weaknesses where this virus is concerned. Your body’s regenerative traits are actually getting in its own way. It’s partially regenerating the virus along with your own tissues. We’ve gotta knock down as many of your body’s walls as we can and then let it start over. With a playing field leveled more to your body’s advantage, we’re hoping the serum will be able to wipe it out then. Not just maintain a balance, but wipe it out.”

“That’s best case scenario,” Ella warned, and Bruce nodded.

“The most likely scenario is that the serum pulls ahead enough to keep your viral load manageable.”

“What would manageable mean?” Steve asked with deeply furrowed brows.

“Your instinctive attacks that you’ve been having would likely go away. Your uh… feral episodes too. You could maybe gain back the ability to eat normally and possibly heal your vocal chords.” Bruce winced when Steve narrowed his eyes, knowing the thought was truncated to be sensitive. “You’d still have the potential to infect people though, without proper precautions.”

Steve’s lips pursed tightly as his stomach dropped. He didn’t want to stop being able to help people. He wanted to be able to pitch in and be an Avenger when he was really needed… but he’d also made a promise to Bucky already. He’d promised they’d step back from the superhero stuff and try to have a quieter life together. He obviously couldn’t infect Bucky, especially if Bucky’s body was slowly eradicating the virus, and that was the fact he needed to remember. Bucky was his whole world and he would be perfectly grateful and content with that life if he survived. There was always the future hope for a vaccine and cure, but he would gladly take a low-profile retirement with Bucky if that was the card fate dealt him.

“When would you start?”

“Immediately,” Bruce murmured, looking truly devastated for him. “As soon as you could go talk to Bucky to prepare him.”

“I need some time with him first,” Steve signaled, closing his eyes.

“Not a good idea,” Dr. Marcase warned. “The sooner we get on this, the better.”

Steve opened his eyes to glare at the doctor, but kept his words polite. “You don’t understand. We need this. He’s going to need this to hold onto. Give me a day, then we’ll start.”

“You might not have that long, Steve,” Ella sighed quietly. “Tell him soon. The last thing you want is him caught off guard if you suddenly take a turn for the worse before you have a chance to explain.”

Steve nodded and turned to leave, feeling like he couldn’t quite breathe. His usual determination was there, but he was also terrified. This was going to be the hardest battle he’d ever fight, but he was fighting to come back to Bucky, and that goal had never steered him wrong before. He definitely had a lot more going for him this time around than he did as a scrawny, sickly kid. 

He just had to hope it was enough.


	14. "Still wanna see the Grand Canyon?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick steps up his game. Steve levels with Bucky about his prognosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck, and I'm so sorry. All I can say is that I have dearly missed this story, and all of you along with it. Getting this chapter together was an odyssey. I put up a post about it on tumblr, but the cliff notes are: Holidays. Sinus infection. Turned into pneumonia. Aggravated the pinched nerve in my back to the point of barely tolerating going to work.
> 
> Good news is that muscle relaxers are wondrous, and I'm finally feeling almost back to normal. I'm cleaning up all the little bits and pieces I managed to write here and there, and posting this feels like a colossal victory. I really hope it's worth having to wait this long for.
> 
> So much love to all of you, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the encouragement and get well wishes. You all are THE SHIT. Truly.  
> ~Grey

The knock on the door of Fury’s temporary office pulled him from the report he was reading. He set it face down on his desk and cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

The man that entered was one of SHIELD’s wet dreams as far as soldiers were concerned. Nick silently catalogued the precision of his movements as he approached the desk. Gesturing to the empty chair, Nick nonchalantly shifted the rest of his reports into a nondescript folder.

“Pinet… You’ve been with us, what… six years and change, right?”

“Almost seven, sir.” Pinet was 36. Exemplary record with exception of one recent mishap. No wife. No kids. No real family that Nick could find, either. While that in and of itself didn’t bother Nick, Brandon Pinet’s previous position did.

“You were one of Rumlow’s guys.” Nick leaned back in his chair as he said it, resting his elbows to the chair arms and folding his hands across his stomach.

“Yes, sir.” Pinet answered readily.

“Kinda took you under his wing, didn’t he?”

“He did, sir. Yes.” Pinet nodded. “Taught me a lot.”

“Feel like you owe him for that?”

Pinet blinked, but he answered evenly, not seeming too annoyed by the question. “Rumlow’s dead, sir. Even if he wasn’t, any debt I felt like I owed him cancelled out the day he committed treason against this country. He killed people at the Triskelion that were my friends.”

“You weren’t there for the capture of Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson-”

“No sir.” Pinet’s eyes grew cold with his answer, his teeth slightly gritted. “I had a follow up to check my hand where I sliced it on the _Lemurian Star_.”

“That’s right, you worked that mission… but in your report, you said Rumlow pulled you off your assignment at the last minute.”

“Yes. After Captain Rogers exited the quin, Rumlow told me to maintain a fixed sniper position rather than shadowing Captain Rogers to give cover.”

“Did he tell you why?” Nick asked. He already knew about this, but it was time to finally question Pinet directly about certain matters. He’d let Pinet stew long enough to think he was safe.

“Rumlow never usually explained himself, and up to that point he’d never given any of us reason to question his calls.” There was a hint of bitterness in his words.

“Given that situation again, think you’d question the call?” This was the question. THE question. This was where he started to let Pinet squirm. He’d allowed Pinet to remain on after DC, untouched and with an award for valor to add shine to the lie.

“Probably not, sir,” Pinet frowned slightly as he took only a moment to consider his response. “I’m not high enough on the food chain for that.”

Nick fixed him with a curious look. “So you don’t think Rogers is higher on the food chain?”

Again, Pinet blinked, but this time he seemed genuinely confused. “Sir?”

“You were on Rogers’ team two months ago. His orders to you were to remain in the sniper position deemed appropriate by Barnes. You left your position to flank Barnes from the southeast, leaving his west side wide open. He took a hit in the hip for it. The next morning I had a pissed off super soldier in my face saying you didn’t know your ass from a hole in the ground.”

Pinet’s eyes narrowed to a dark scowl. “Sgt. Barnes said that?”

“No. Rogers did,” Fury corrected. Pinet’s eyes grew wide, and Nick couldn’t really hide his amusement. “Yeah, I did a doubletake myself, but you’d be amazed what comes out of Rogers’ mouth when you put his best friend in danger. YOU got him shot, so you can imagine the earful I got. You should also be able to understand my concern.”

Pinet’s face flushed as he had the decency to at least look ashamed. It wasn’t unheard of for Barnes to tear soldiers a new asshole in the field. If the history books and aging field reports were anything to go by, Barnes never was much for mincing words after Rogers rescued the 107th either, but it was definitely worse now. He at least tempered it slightly for Rogers’ sake after Azzano, but here in the future, there were zero fucks to be given by James Barnes. 

Pinet had been on the receiving end of that temper more than once before Barnes took that bullet. Interestingly enough, while Rogers looked like a rabid dog over the event, Barnes had been far more subdued about it. His choice of words were as vulgar and brutal as ever, but otherwise he’d been damn near stoic by comparison. Nick had chalked it up to great pain meds at the time, but a week later he began to realize that Barnes knew Pinet was a sleeper agent.

Nick had always been a little dubious when it came to James Barnes’ interpersonal skills until he confronted Barnes about Pinet. Barnes had merely shrugged and asked why Fury thought he would blow Pinet out of the water when Fury had obviously been farming him for almost two years. 

Nick stopped underestimating Barnes’ perception as a spy after that. Rogers might be a brilliant tactician, but Barnes really was the one you had to be careful of. That wasn’t historical hype; in fact that had been downplayed to add to Captain America’s legendary status. The fact that Barnes took no issue with it underscored just how dangerous he really was. If Rogers saw everything, Barnes managed to see just that little bit more. Where Rogers could be impulsive and quick to on-the-fly actions, Barnes was incredibly deliberate even when improvising. Between the two of them, they rarely made “errors”. The snafus that usually got them called to the table tended to be the bi-product of bad intel or, in Pinet’s case, bad backup.

Barnes willingly allowed Pinet onto the team. He willingly took a bullet to give Nick more time to manipulate Pinet to his own ends. And make no mistake, Barnes knew that Pinet had flanked him. Of that Nick was one-hundred percent certain.

Now it was time to harvest the field that Nick had so carefully tended.

“Sgt. Barnes didn’t talk to you about it too?”

“Oh he did,” Nick grunted, blinking slowly at Pinet, “but even I won’t repeat what he said. I’m guessing you won’t have to try to hard to imagine the gist of it. You should probably be glad Dr. Banner insisted on pain meds since that round basically shattered his hip.”

“I didn’t realize that, sir. He was moving pretty damn well.”

“Well… Rogers was pinned down. Don’t ever underestimate that bond. HYDRA did. Didn’t work out too well for ‘em.”

Finally, Pinet squirmed a little over that.

“I wasn’t ‘flanking’ him,” he sighed. “My position was compromised, and our comms weren’t working right. Some kind of interference. I needed to let Sgt. Barnes know that my spot was blown. I had to make a split-second call.”

“Barnes would have stayed in the post anyway, or found a secondary vantage point. Of course, he’s watching the back of a man that’s been like a brother to him since they were young boys. They’re very protective of each other.”

“Gotta be hard on the Sergeant, seeing Captain Rogers sick.”

And there it was. A slip that Nick could wheedle away at. No one, outside of those directly in Rogers’ and Barnes’ immediate circle of contact, knew about them becoming infected.

Which meant there were sleeper agents in Stark’s tower.

“Sgt. Barnes is also infected so… like everything else… they’re in it together.”

His face turning ashen, Pinet looked shocked. “He’s infected too? But…”

“We’ve always believed Barnes’ serum was weaker than Rogers’. If Rogers can be infected, no reason to think Barnes couldn’t be too. Now we just gotta figure out how the serum is keeping them from being turned. Should help us figure out a vaccine eventually. The only upside of this mess is finding the breadcrumbs to weed out bigger HYDRA operatives.” 

Pinet looked back up at Nick with suspicious eyes. “Is there something specific you need me to do? You didn’t call me in just to shoot the shit, sir.”

“Nope, sure didn’t,” Nick sighed, rubbing his temple lightly. “With the incident in Ohio, you’re in a spot where double agents could think you’re vulnerable. You being the target of Barnes’ temper makes you seem like a good bet to turn you to HYDRA’s side. Anyone approaches you, I want you to play along. Don’t be too eager, but hear them out.”

“You want me to play spy, sir?” The wry laugh was a little too raw. “I’m a grunt. Got no experience with this.”

“That’s exactly why I need you,” Nick affirmed, carefully baiting the waters. “We’re getting close. This could be the break we need to finally get back ahead of the game.”

Nick almost caught what looked like a smirk twitching the corner of Pinet’s mouth. HYDRA never could quite subdue its own arrogance. Not fully anyway, but that was okay. It played right into Nick’s hands.

“I’ll do my best then, sir.”

“Eh, can the ‘sir’ shit. It’s a different ball game now, Pinet,” Nick dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Just call me Nick.”

“Okay. Where would you like me to start?”

“Just keep doing what you do every day,” Nick answered solemnly, “but when you leave this office, make it clear that what we talked about didn’t go over well with you. Feel free to call me whatever names usually get used about me.”

“Dickhead is common,” Pinet offered, and Nick huffed low in his throat.

“I’m getting mellow in my old age then,” he mused. “Go on. Get outta here. You come back in here, make it look like you got a bone to pick.”

“Understood.” Pinet stood and quickly exited the room. A few seconds later, Maria Hill silently stepped into Nick’s peripheral. He pulled up the old footage from the Triskelion and watched it again. Pinet had been on a medical absence during Rogers’ escape and during the battle on the causeway, but once the battle for the helicarriers broke out, he showed up on secondary surveillance at the Triskelion. He didn’t join in with Rumlow’s team though.

He was jamming SHIELD’s emergency comms.

Just like the mission in Ohio where Barnes was shot.

“You want me to up the shadow protocol?” Hill asked quietly.

“Yep. Level 10 now. Have a feeling he’s gonna make a run for New York. You should head back there too.”

“On it,” she murmured, then slipped back out.

Nick Fury stared at his computer monitor and hoped like hell that this gamble paid off better than Los Angeles did. Apart from Romanoff and Barton, it was his last card to play to get a handle on this virus.

 

_________________________________________

 

_The screams jolted Steve awake. He was on his feet and across the hall in just moments. When he reached Bucky’s door, he called out to his friend. The last time, he’d barreled in and had gotten a pretty decent beatdown from the disoriented, traumatized soldier in his guest room._

_“Bucky…? It’s Steve, Buck. I’m coming in, okay?”_

_His eyes already adjusted to the darkness of the room, Steve still didn’t see Bucky at first. He moved carefully inside, half expecting a side-kick or tackle at any moment. When it didn’t come, he took two more steps and finally saw Bucky._

_He’d apparently woken himself up with his own screams, and was on the floor now, crouched down in the corner between the bed and the wall. His eyes tracked Steve as he moved closer. He looked exhausted, but Steve knew he was coiled tight, ready to explode into a frenzy of motion if something triggered his fight or flight response._

_Steve dropped to the floor a few feet from him._

_“Buck…? You with me? You know where you are right now?”_

_Eyes blinked slowly back at him. Bucky finally nodded, but Steve needed to be sure before he did anything else._

_“What year is it?”_

_“2013.” His voice was raw, but the answer was what mattered._

_“Where are you, Bucky?”_

_“In your apartment, Steve.”_

_“And looking pretty tired,” Steve commented dryly, with a soft sigh of relief. “Did you get any sleep so far?”_

_“Three…? Four hours…?”_

_“So more like two,” Steve gently chided. Bucky’s eyes averted, so Steve didn’t push the issue. They could go on only a few hours sleep each night, but Bruce had warned Steve that Bucky should try to rest more than that. He was healing mentally, and sleep was extremely important to that process. He’d given Steve medication formulated with their biology in mind, but so far Bucky had refused the sleeping pills. He still eyed the shadows too long, still expected an attack that could come from anywhere._

_Steve reached out to Bucky, only to have him flinch away. They were still dealing with Bucky’s sense of self-worth, which was next to nothing at this point._

_“Don’t,” Bucky winced._

_“Okay,” Steve acquiesced quietly. “Tell me what I can do. What do you need right now?”_

_Bucky remained silent as he stared at the floor. His eyes shifted upward cautiously._

_“Draw.”_

_Steve definitely wasn’t expecting that._

_“You want me to sketch for you?”_

_Bucky seemed unsure of himself again, but slowly nodded. “Just… wanna watch you draw. Used to like it…”_

_“Okay,” Steve agreed readily. He started to stand. “Just lemme get my-”_

_Suddenly a book slid toward him across the floor. His pencil was still tucked inside. Steve looked up at Bucky, who looked ashamed that he’d had Steve’s work in his possession._

_“Hey, Buck… no. It’s okay. If you wanna hold onto this when I’m not sketching, you can.” He reached out slowly to place his hand lightly to the top of Bucky’s foot, but Bucky jerked it away at the last second. “If it helps, you just hold onto it for me, okay?”_

_Bucky glanced up at him, his eyes searching Steve’s for just a moment before they shifted back to his lap. He nodded, and Steve accepted it as the only answer he’d get._

_“Anything in particular you want me to draw?”_

_The guarded soldier considered only a few seconds before shaking his head._

_“Just draw.”_

_“Okay.” Steve pondered what he could put on the page that would be a safe place for Bucky’s mind to go. Coney Island came to mind, but that seemed too loud and chaotic. Their apartment was a possibility, but Steve ruled that out as not open enough. He wanted Bucky to feel warm, and comforted by what he drew._

_When it came to him, Steve just began sketching without comment. The branches of the enormous old apple tree were penciled in first, and part of a trunk. He filled in the leaves, and then the fruit that draped from each branch. Beneath the tree, he drew a young boy with dark hair, and a carefree expression. The boy’s eyes were closed as sun warmed his face through the little gaps in the leaves. Steve put every ounce of love into his pencil strokes as he committed young Bucky to paper, remembering the boy for the both of them._

_Bucky’s eyes were glued to the page. As he started to sketch in grass and wildflowers around the boy, Bucky’s voice reached him in a whisper._

_“I don’t wanna be alone.”_

_Steve stared, but then he began to make the addition. He sketched his younger self, all gangly-limbed and knobby-kneed. His socks didn’t quite stay up, and his secondhand shorts were just a little too big. He drew a half-eaten apple in his hand, which Bucky had gotten for him, along with the skinned knee he’d gained by trying to climb the tree himself._

_Both boys looked happy, peaceful, and thick as thieves._

_He pushed the book back to Bucky, still open to the newly-sketched page._

_“You’re not alone, Bucky. Not anymore, and never again. I’m right here. I’m gonna stay right here.”_

_Some of the haunted expression left Bucky’s face as he stared down at the drawing. What could almost pass for a smile twitched at his lips._

_“Always so stubborn,” he murmured, his fingertips passing over the younger boy’s scuffed knee._

_“Still am,” Steve nodded. “Not gonna give up on you, Buck. Not ever.”_

_Rather than address Steve’s comment directly, Bucky held the book out hopefully._

_“Will you do another one?”_

_“Of course,” Steve answered, “but can I sit next to you?”_

_“No don’t.”_

_“It’ll be easier for you to watch me-”_

_“No.”_

_“Okay… it’s just that-”_

_“I’ll wake up.”_

_Steve blinked, startled by the comment. “What?”_

_“If you touch me, I’ll wake up. I don’t wanna… Can’t… Can’t…”_

_Steve dropped the sketchbook and lunged forward. Bucky’s eyes were closed, and it was the only reason Steve managed to catch him around the waist when he suddenly tried to move. Bucky began to scream, the sound agonized and desperate, but Steve just pulled him against his chest and held him. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and rocked back and forth. He’d answered the check-in questions, but still couldn’t trust his current reality. It made Steve’s chest ache for his beloved friend._

_“You’re awake, Buck. You’re safe. You’re safe. Not gonna let anything happen to you…” Steve kept up the soft murmurs, repeating what Bucky needed to hear. He didn’t tell Bucky that he was okay though. Bucky might make peace with everything someday. He might eventually heal and manage to move on, but it would never be okay. What was done to him would never be okay. Maybe he would tell Steve that he was okay at some point, but Steve would never push those words onto Bucky._

_Bucky gradually stopped straining against Steve, and his head finally fell backward against Steve’s shoulder. His heart slowed under Steve’s hands, and the heaving of his chest quieted._

_“I got you, pal,” Steve whispered. “You’re gonna get through this… and I’m gonna be right here with you every step of the way.”_

_“End of the line,” Bucky whispered back, his eyes closed tightly._

_“And beyond… if that’s possible,” Steve chuckled. Bucky didn’t respond, so he asked carefully, “Still want me to do another sketch?”_

_Bucky’s lips pursed, but he nodded. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible._

_“Can we move up there, maybe? Floor’s kinda hard.”_

_Bucky chewed at his lip, but wordlessly climbed back onto the bed when Steve released his hold. Steve sat next to Bucky with his back propped against the headboard. Their shoulders touched, but this time Bucky didn’t shy away from it._

_Steve began to draw more scenes from the idyllic area around the cabin that Bucky’s uncle owned. It gave them some of the most serene moments of their young lives, so it was an obvious choice._

_Steve filled several pages with wildlife, flowery fields, towering trees, and the stream near the cabin. Bucky’s weight shifted against him, and Steve looked over as Bucky’s head drooped onto his shoulder._

_“Buck?” he whispered softly. When Bucky didn’t answer, Steve eased him over, pillowing his head against his chest. He slowly ran his fingertips over Bucky’s hair, and just watched over him._

 

_________________________________________

 

Steve’s steps were sluggish as he made his way back to the containment suite. The tightness in his chest increased with each step until he finally staggered to the wall. He slid down to a squat, his head buried in his hands as he gasped for breath. His asthma was long gone, but apparently anxiety was still able to manage a foothold.

“Captain Rogers, may I call Sgt. Barnes for you?”

“No!” Steve managed to get the word out, shaking his head adamantly. He silently counted in his head, and used the techniques he’d learned to help Bucky during his panic attacks. As with Bucky, his breathing eventually slowed to something closer to normal.

“Thank you, Jarvis,” he murmured, “but I just needed a minute.”

“You’ve been in distress for twelve minutes, sir.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Jarvis.” Steve let his head fall back against the wall. “I just needed to get that all out before I go back to Bucky.”

“You will tell him of your prognosis, sir?”

Steve looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”

“He is just beginning to wake up.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, his chest threatening to tighten again. “Thank you, Jarvis.”

Steve pulled himself back to his feet, and began to adjust his attitude with each step. By the time he reached their suite, he was more composed. The lock clicked behind him when he stepped into the suite, and he had to swallow down the irritation it caused. It was a necessary precaution, but right now it just felt like one more thing threatening to suffocate him.

He ambled slowly down the hallway to their bedroom, then peered inside. Bucky’s eyes were on him, but they were heavy-lidded and groggy. He smiled sweetly at Steve and patted the bed.

“S’cold. Come warm me up.”

“We don’t get cold that easy,” Steve smirked, leaning against the door frame. Bucky just pouted and reached out for him.

“Feels cold without you. Get over here, Stevie.”

Steve grinned and approached the bed, only to have Bucky’s hand stop him from climbing in.

“Clothes.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve laughed, and stripped out of his sweats. He climbed beneath the covers, and Bucky immediately plastered himself to Steve’s body.

“Where’d you go? Don’t like wakin’ up without you.”

“Sorry,” Steve whispered. “Bruce wanted to talk to me about a new round of treatment. You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you up. Wasn’t gone long.”

Bucky pulled back from Steve so that he could look him in the eye. “Everything okay?”

“They want to try a more aggressive treatment,” Steve shrugged. “They want to try to get ahead of this thing.”

“What’d you tell ‘em?” Bucky asked quietly, obviously not sure whether he liked this new development.

“I told them to do it,” Steve muttered. “Tired of this thing on my head,” he sighed, pointing to the modulator. “Tired of eating raw meat. Want my life back. Want my freedom back.”

Bucky gazed up at him with searching eyes, and Steve felt like an ass suddenly. “I’m sorry. This is nothing like your situation, and I should be thankful it didn’t kill either of us.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me for how you feel,” Bucky murmured, running his fingers over Steve’s cheek. “One doesn’t need to be compared to the other, Steve…”

“Believe me, I don’t.” 

“You have every right to be frustrated. It’s not offensive to me that you want to be well again. I want that too. I want to be able to get out there so we can help Tony... So we can wrap this up and get on with our life.”

Bile rose in Steve’s throat over that, over the thought they might not ever get that chance. He pushed it back down though. He needed time with Bucky that wasn’t about death or worst-case scenarios. He needed time that was about living, about loving one another.

“Speaking of that…” Steve smiled. “I think it’s your turn, isn’t it?”

Bucky lifted his head to look down at Steve, whose smile only widened… and heated up. Bucky’s own eyes hooded as he stared back at Steve, the blue-grey slowly disappearing. That was exactly what Steve needed to see.

 

____________________________________

 

Chest still heaving, Bucky rolled his head sideways to look Steve in the eye.

“I can’t believe you lasted as long as you did with this,” he rasped, his stomach still fluttering and rolling with the echoes of his second orgasm. The plug was still in place, but blessedly silent. Steve rolled closer and reached to ease it out. Bucky hissed as the plug slipped free, and Steve soothed him with kisses to his stomach and hip.

“I think the loop did it,” he answered after turning his modulator back on. It hadn’t been able to parse out anything once they really got into the thick of it, and he’d turned it off, knowing Bucky didn’t like hearing gibberish from it. “Hard to explain.”

“No, I think I get it,” Bucky sighed. They’d fallen into the loop again, but had managed to ride the wave of it rather than losing consciousness. Like before, they were both exhausted but giddy with the way the connection made them feel as it grew stronger.

Steve nodded and stood up on slightly shaky legs. He went to the bathroom and came back with a damp towel to clean them both up with. He wiped Bucky’s skin dry, his adoring eyes sending warmth throughout his body. When Steve ditched the towels and came back, he grabbed his sketchpad before settling back down next to Bucky.

“No nap?” Bucky asked, curious. He clearly wanted to curl up with Steve, liking how peaceful he felt when he could slide off to sleep with Steve’s heart beating beneath his ear.

“Definitely a nap,” Steve answered, putting the pad onto the nightstand. “Just feel some inspiration coming on, so I want it close.”

Bucky smiled as Steve scooted down and pulled him against his side.Bucky placed his cheek against Steve’s chest and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist with their mingled scent quickly lulling him.

“I’m grateful for you,” he whispered. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, punk.”

Steve’s chest hitched below his cheek before the answer came. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Buck. I love you more than I’ll probably be able to ever show you.”

“Better try hard then,” Bucky murmured with a smile plying his lips. Steve pinched him lightly, making him squirm a little.

“That was the plan, jerk.”

 

____________________________________

 

Bucky awoke to Steve sketching. Not the firm, determined strokes he sometimes used. These were gentle, the picture the start of a whimsical scene. The apple tree. Steve drew these scenes when Bucky was having a rough time of it. The calming scenes were reserved for the worst nights.

The sheets pooled around his naked waist as he sat up to silently watch. He stared at the almost lazy flicks of Steve’s hand, then up at Steve’s face. It was a little too glassy-eyed for Steve Rogers, especially while he sketched.

“Tell me.”

Steve turned his modulator back on. “What?”

“What are you not telling me?”

Steve just stared back, a reaction Bucky wasn’t really happy with. “I know you better than anyone else, Steve. I know when something’s eating at you. It has been since you came back, but for some reason you wanted to have sex rather than talk about it. Not that I can’t get behind that, but...”

“Wanna have sex again?” Steve asked hopefully. It was worth a try, Bucky could certainly give him that.

“Always,” he answered, “but not until you level with me, Rogers.”

“Last names, huh?”

“Yeah. Spill.”

Steve’s pencil finally halted. He blinked a few times, clearly forming his words with care; something that scared the hell out of Bucky since it started after Steve came back from the lab.

“I might not make it, Bucky.”

Irritation shot through Bucky. He hated when Steve went martyr on him. Proud and stubborn was maddening, but pity party was intolerable. Thankfully it was rare.

“Stop it, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“No. You forget who you’re talking to, pal. I’ve watched you beat much worse. I’ve watched priests give you last rites, and your scrawny, sickly ass came back every time. I’m sure I would’ve been prematurely grey with ulcers if it weren’t for this fucking serum… but you’re not sickly or scrawny anymore. You’ll get through this. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. We’re just gonna-”

“I’m dying, Bucky.”

That rendered Bucky stunned and mute. Try as he might, he couldn’t force anything past his tightened throat.

“The treatments aren’t working. That’s why they want to try something more aggressive… which might kill me… but we have to try because I’m dying. I’m going to eventually turn into one of those things-” His words cut off abruptly as Bucky shot from the bed. “Bucky?”

This was ridiculous. Bucky grabbed his sweats and hauled them on, his eyes determined as he did so. He picked up Steve’s clothes and hurled them at him.

“Get dressed, Steve. We’re gonna go straighten this out.”

“Buck, there’s nothing to-”

“Get. Dressed.” His gaze was icy as he stared back expectantly. Steve set his pad aside and climbed from the bed. Bucky’s eyes fell to the floor as Steve stood. When Steve stepped closer, Bucky immediately stepped back, his eyes raising sharply in warning.

“No.”

Bless Steve at least for always respecting that word. He might sweetly worm around it later, but he always stopped what he was doing when Bucky uttered that single word as a demand. Bucky didn’t know what had been said to Steve in that lab, but somehow Steve had twisted it around in his head. He was probably reading into nothing, or something said not quite right, and his brain was latching onto the worst possible scenario.

They were both bad about jumping to conclusions sometimes. They needed to work on that together.

Steve had barely pulled on his shoes when Bucky stalked into the front room and stood before the door.

“Jarvis, open the door. We need to go to the lab. There’s been a misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky but-”

“Jarvis, open this door or I will tear this fucking place apart.”

There was a tense moment of silence before the lock indicator turned green with a loud click. Jarvis remained silent as Bucky stormed down the hallway to the elevator. Too impatient to wait, Bucky took off for the stairs. Steve didn’t even try to talk him down, which he appreciated. He had enough self-awareness to know that killing a tiny bit of steam in the emergency stairwell was for the best.

Jarvis was apparently wary of Bucky’s temper. When they reached the lab’s floor, the door opened automatically for them before Bucky could burst through it hard enough to damage it. Bucky was actually calmer than that, but having a door opened for him was fine too. Yes, he was angry, his simmering temper ready to swell into a boil, but so far he was keeping his head. This just had to be straightened out, then they could get back to bed so Steve could rest.

The lab door opened automatically, and Bucky was confronted by several somber faces, with Steve trailing behind him.

“Guys,” he began calmly, “I need your help here. Whatever you said to Steve, he’s got it in his head that he’s dying. Carter used to call him melodramatic, and she was on the money… so just… help me clear this up, will ya?”

Shockingly, Tony remained silent. He looked terribly uncomfortable as he stared at Bucky. Ella, who was closest to Bucky, glanced back at Sam, but all that did was piss Bucky off more. He stepped into her space and snapped his fingers.

“Uh uh. You look at me. _You talk to me_. I’m right here.”

Ella looked up at Bucky, but before she could respond, Marcase spoke up to take the brunt of Bucky’s anger.

“The treatments aren’t working. They aren’t getting ahead of the virus. Steve’s serum is actually working against him right now. We’re going to try to fix that.”

“But he’s not dying,” Bucky scoffed, his mind wanting to reject the implication. They had to be wrong. They didn’t know Steve Rogers the way he did. They hadn’t seen what he’d seen.

“His condition is declining,” Ella murmured, trying to gentle her words as best she could. “We have to try a very aggressive approach… or we’re going to lose him.”

White-hot rage erupted inside Bucky’s chest. “I told you to fix this!” he yelled. Ella was directly in his face, but his words were aimed at all of them. Several feet behind Tony, two techs were trying to edge into the back room.

“Sit your asses down and get to work,” he snarled at them. They immediately sat down, but their gazes were glued to Bucky, unabashedly terrified.

It was then that Sam stepped forward, his voice soft and placating. “Hey… Bucky… Everyone here is working their ass off to help Steve, okay? They want him cured as much as you do.”

“That’s not even possible, Wilson,” Bucky growled back at Sam, who flinched a fraction at the renewed use of his last name.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Bad choice of words there. Sorry, man… but they want this bad. They all care about him and you. So do I. That’s why I’m up here. We’re gonna take this a step at a time, okay? We gotta get him started on this new treatment as soon as possible. Now… if you give me a minute to take another blood sample from you, that’ll help. Then you two can go talk this over and get on the same page, okay?”

Bucky’s chest was still heaving with his anger. He felt lightheaded and desperate but, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t come up with any plan of action. Even slamming his fist into something didn’t seem worth doing, so he went numb. He went so numb that when Sam rested his hands to Bucky’s shoulders to guide him into a chair, he barely reacted other than to pliantly sit down. Around him, they were talking, but none of the words made sense. He was dimly aware of Steve crouching down before him and speaking, but all Bucky could really hear was the rapid thud of his own heart in his ears. He didn’t feel the rubber tourniquet or the prick of the needle. He saw the worried look Steve gave him when he didn’t even flinch, but he couldn’t react. He couldn’t feel anything except what felt like a brick wall sitting on his chest.

“You’re all wrong,” he muttered. His own voice even sounded muffled in his ears, weak and raspy. “He’ll beat this. You don’t know him like I do. I lost count how many times he shoulda been dead by other people’s reckoning. I held his hand through more shit than you’ll ever know. He was too stubborn to die, and he was so sickly back then. He’ll beat this. You’re betting on the wrong fuckin’ horse. All of you.”

“There’s not a person in this room that would bet against Steve, Bucky.” Sam’s words held enough conviction that Bucky was able to believe him. He still couldn’t muster up much of a reaction, which had Steve and Sam both looking worried as hell. Bucky couldn’t manage to care about that either. His mind was like one of the old back allies in Brooklyn, with the wind swirling leaves and bits of trash down the empty corridors. There were bits of memories whirling about in his head, but not one of them could be called anything but precious. Whooping cough… bronchitis... scarlet fever… pneumonia… Steve had it all at some point, some of it multiple times and it was terrifying, but the way Steve would look to him… The way he would accept Bucky’s comforting touch, or the sound of his voice as he read the paper or a tattered old novel… That was precious. That was something Bucky had that he could never explain to any of them, even if the memories were fragmented and sometimes fleeting. The feelings were there to fill in the missing parts. 

The way Steve’s weak eyes would become steely with determination after Bucky managed to push the right buttons? Sure, they saw Steve’s grit all the time, but they’d never seen how beautiful it could be after he’d given up. They couldn’t know what that felt like, but Bucky did. They’d never know the kind of relief that would seize Bucky’s heart when a dangerous fever finally broke after days of mopping Steve’s brow with a threadbare wash cloth.

Bucky realized that Sam had spoken to him again, and he looked up blankly.

“We’re good, Bucky. Take Steve on back and make him get some rest, will ya?”

Bucky stood and walked right past Steve, still lost in pieces of their young lives. He didn’t register Steve’s hand pressed to his back until he suddenly turned around and fixed Sam with a hard look.

“It might get bad… but you wait. He’s just gonna scare the shit outta us, then bounce back like it ain’ no big deal… Steve’s always been an asshole… an’ he’s still the same fuckin’ punk ass kid that lived for givin’ me heartburn every day with his bullshit. You’ll see.”

Sam gave him a lopsided smirk. “Actually sounds about right… If the first thing that comes outta his mouth when he beats this is ‘On your left,’ I’mma help you smack ‘im upside his punk ass head.”

Bucky wished he could laugh at that, but all he could do was nod his appreciation for Sam being on the same page. The show of solidarity was desperately needed, and Sam managed to put it across in a way that Bucky could stomach.

He gave a truncated nod and turned for the door, Steve’s fingers curled into the bottom of his shirt. Steve began talking quietly to him in the hallway, but Bucky’s hearing had become muffled again, and he couldn’t comprehend anything enough to form any kind of answer for Steve. His ailing boyfriend finally gave up and remained quiet for the rest of their walk back to the containment suite. They took the stairs back up rather than the elevator. Bucky closed his eyes as his feet climbed each step, letting the repetitive motion lull him into the solitude of his own mind. He was dimly aware of the therapy he’d received that told him this wasn’t the healthiest way to cope with Steve’s illness, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

Inside the suite, Jarvis and Steve had a brief exchange, none of which made it through to Bucky’s frazzled brain.He stopped just inside the door and stared blankly at the fucking disgusting couch. Before he could make any demands about it being replaced, Steve was on him. 

Arms enfolded him, but all he could do was stare at the couch. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he couldn’t get his arms to move, to embrace Steve back. Nothing was working. He closed his eyes and let his forehead fall to Steve’s shoulder. A dull throbbing was beginning at the back of his skull and behind his eyes, working itself slowly toward a migraine.

“...Starbucks?”

Bucky frowned against Steve’s shoulder, confused. Of all the things he imagined Steve pleading with him about, coffee wasn’t one of them. A part of his mind still able to squeak through a rational thought supplied to him that caffeine might be wise to head off the pressure inside his head.

He managed a nod, and Steve’s chest actually shook slightly.

And then Bucky heard Steve chuckle.

Both men startled, and Bucky’s head jerked upward to stare at Steve, whose shocked expression had to mirror his own.

“Jarvis? I… just laughed.”

“My apologies, Captain,” the AI immediately responded. “The functionality would have been available much sooner, however I had to scan all available external media archives to find suitable audio examples of your patterns of laughter. Since you do not give interviews often, and you tend to allow Sir to do most of the talking during press conferences, the pickings were, as they say, slim.”

Unlike the digitized version of Steve’s voice, the modulator had triggered an actual soundbyte of Steve’s amused laugh. It was the kind Bucky was used to hearing when they volunteered at the children’s hospital wards, soft and soothingly gentle.

Every wall that Bucky had desperately thrown up inside his head and heart instantly crumbled. He began to shake, and the moment Steve tenderly touched his jaw, Bucky moved. He threw his arms around Steve, and broke down into painful, heaving sobs. He silently screamed into Steve’s neck with his fingers digging into Steve’s back. This time he heard every word Steve spoke, but now everything was too raw to be soothed.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry. You’re right though, okay? I’m gonna fight this. I would never leave you without fighting. I’ll always fight for you, Buck. I swear that to you… I’m gonna need you, Buck. Gonna need you to be strong for me like you always used to. Need you to kick my ass like you did before...”

Bucky was still shaking in Steve’s arms, but the part of him that used to take all the worst shifts at the docks started to take charge. He had a job to do. He had to step up again, and keep Steve on the right track. He was going to have to push, prod, manipulate, and outright bully Steve to keep him fighting his hardest. Steve had more motivation now to survive than he did as a scrawny kid, but that didn’t mean Bucky was going to be any less forceful in his approach. This had to be business as usual, because the stakes were so much higher than before. This was a mission Bucky could not fail.

“Starbucks,” he gasped against Steve’s skin, still holding on for dear life.

He felt Steve smile against his ear. “Leave it to you to latch onto coffee instead of all the deep, heartfelt things I just said.”

“Priorities, Steve,” he sniffed. Normally this would be the moment when he’d pull away to compose himself, and get his game face back on. He couldn’t though. They were different now, and he wouldn’t let go of Steve for the sake of his carefully crafted prickly persona. He was about to become the clingiest, most overbearing boyfriend on the planet, and fuck Steve if he didn’t like it. Bucky was back at war with Steve’s health, only now he was ten times the warrior he was before. He would tear everything and everyone apart to make sure Steve Rogers remained the sassy little asshole he’d always been.

“Okay then,” Steve smiled. “Coffee for my best guy.”

“Coffee for your _only_ guy,” Bucky rasped indignantly.

“Damn straight,” Steve’s modulator intoned in the closest it could get to a whisper. He gently disentangled Bucky, but held out his hand. Bucky slid his fingers between Steve’s, and the door to the containment suite slid open without them even asking.

 

________________________________________________

 

They chose to sit in the eerie emptiness of the lobby, sipping their drinks as the bubbling fountain filled the silence between them. Their fingers were still entwined, neither having been able to stomach the idea of letting go even as they waited for their drinks. Steve’s thumb gently stroked back and forth across Bucky’s index knuckle. The caffeine was easing off the headache that had blossomed when Bucky broke down, and the repetition of Steve’s soothing caress was helping to dull the ache in Bucky’s heart. The snow was still coming down in heavy, fluffy flakes, and with no hissers currently in view, they could almost pretend they were like any other couple in love. Just sitting together and breathing each other’s air.

Bucky finished off his coffee with a final mournful gulp, then set the cup aside. He wrapped his now-free arm around Steve and, to his pleased surprise, Steve leaned against him and rested his head to Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky didn’t utter one word about it for fear of killing the moment.

“New Zealand.”

Bucky blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Yep.”

“Glow worms.”

“Yep.”

“Still wanna see the Grand Canyon?”

Bucky had to jostle his scrappy memory a bit, but it was there.

“Definitely.”

“Maybe do the zipline across it…?”

“Nope,” Bucky frowned.

“No?”

“We zipline all the time, Steve. I don’t wanna do anything even remotely similar to what we do for work.”

“Fair enough,” Steve answered. “What about Fiji?”

“The Maldives,” Bucky replied. “Not sure about Fiji, but we can look it up.”

“Okay…”

“Yellowstone.”

“Itching to tangle with a bear, Buck?”

“Maybe ride a moose,” Bucky murmured.

“The moose might take exception,” Steve warned.

“The moose’ll love me. I’ll bribe him with food.”

“Pretty sure that’s against park regulations… but hey, maybe they’ll let us since we’re Avengers-”

“No.”

“No?”

“We’re not anything but Steve and Bucky once we go.”

Steve smiled again with a squeeze to Bucky’s hand. “Okay.”

“Great Barrier Reef.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve agreed. “Maybe we’ll see an octopus or two. I love those.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’re really smart. I’d love to have a big aquarium someday with a little octopus…”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment as he wondered at the novelty of Steve wanting such a cool thing like that. It gave him the perfect opening for something he’d been rolling around inside his head since they’d discussed taking a step back from the whole Avengers thing.

“I’d really like a house… somewhere out of the way. Somewhere quiet.”

“We could do that, Buck. Absolutely.”

“You could have that aquarium.”

“True,” Steve nodded. “Got anywhere in particular in mind?”

“Upstate,” Bucky answered readily.

“Thinking about your uncle’s cabin? That area?”

“Thinking we could build onto my uncle’s cabin… Except it’s actually your cabin now.”

A brief blurb of gibberish erupted from Steve’s modulator. He tapped it off for a second while he reorganized his thoughts, then tapped it back on, clearly unwilling to let go of his hold on Bucky long enough to sign.

“Come again?”

“Howard bought it a long time ago. After you stayed there, Tony had it transferred to you. You own it now.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

“Tony did that?”

“Yep.”

“Was he planning on telling me at some point?”

“Eventually, yeah. You know how he is. Probably terrified you’d hug him.”

“Not a chance.”

“Yeah, but he has issues.”

Steve snorted at that, but then he frowned. “Wait, when did you find this out?”

“On the roof.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You threw a vent cover at me, Steve.”

“But still…!”

“Rattled my teeth,” Bucky reiterated calmly.

“And it irreparably damaged you, right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled. “So… the cabin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Seclusion,” Bucky mused.

“Sentimental value,” Steve added.

“Epic fucking snowball fights.”

"Now that sounds promising."

"How about a dog?"

"Really?"

"Big, burly dog," Bucky sighed.

"Doable."

"Cool. She can come fishing with us."

"She?"

"Sure, why not?"

“Sure... but no throwing any fish at me, Bucky.”

“I didn’t throw it, Steve.”

“You shoved it in my face.”

“It wanted a kiss.”

“I was never that desperate even back then, Bucky.”

“It was an ugly ass fish.”

“Really ugly.”

“You screamed like a little girl.”

“You almost got punched right in front of your uncle.”

“You almost tipped the boat over.”

“You would have deserved it.”

“You would have caught pneumonia.”

“Then don’t shove fish in my face.”

“You’re immune now though.”

Steve squeezed his hand again to underscore his words. “I will kick your ass into next year.”

“We’ll see.”

He was quiet for a moment, but then his expression was sincere.

“Yeah, Buck. We will.”

Bucky was going to hold Steve to that, no matter what it took.


	15. "Fake it 'til ya make it?!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky continues to struggle with the news about Steve's declining health. Sam brings them one more option which gets mixed reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struggling with how I wanted to bring this chapter to an end. Civil War ultimately gave me a spark and a nudge in the right direction. I'm relieved to have walked out of that movie feeling like I wasn't really off the mark with how I write Bucky's dialogue. Also relieved to hear a few stronger swears, especially from Bucky himself. Obviously it didn't need to be Deadpool (which I LOVED), but it's too dark a movie to believe these characters wouldn't let some choice profanity fly. Yeah, kinda petty and nitpicky, but dialogue is a big deal to me. It really makes or breaks characterization for me. I couldn't be happier with Seb's performance in Civil War. Actually I thought everyone did a great job, but Seb knocked it outta the park.
> 
> So give this a read, then come have vodka soaked plums with me over on tumblr...! ;)

_They both heard the whistle of the falling shell right before it hit. Steve had shoved Bucky flat to the ground, and had thrown his shield up to take the blow of the pressure wave. It had thrown him backward, over Bucky’s prone body, and against the side of a cement block bunker. The idiot had taken the brunt of a blast that might very well have killed Bucky. As it was, he’d smelled the odor of his own singed hair after the heat of the blast shot overhead._  
  
_It’d been almost twenty minutes since Bucky carried Steve away from the actual battle. The blast that took Steve down had only taken three seconds. Bucky couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head. He hadn’t given himself the luxury of shock, or even a scream. He’d been up and running back to Steve before his brain could even register sound again._  
  
_They weren’t even in a foxhole. No well-dug trenches to be found either. Bucky never thought he’d miss them, but he sure as hell did at the moment. All they had was the crook of a tiny stream, with barely enough height to the sharp embankment to keep his head below the rim. He’d done his best to camouflage them with fallen branches, but Steve may as well have been a flying flag. The shield he’d caked with mud, and he was seriously weighing the merits of covering Steve with it too._  
  
_Wasn’t like the kid would get a cold now, although the knee-jerk worry still lingered in Bucky’s bones. It was hard to push it aside when Steve still hadn’t regained consciousness._  
  
_The decision was made. With all the fighting still happening nearby, Bucky began to smear mud all over Steve’s too-vivid uniform. His own jacket was no better, so he gave it similar treatment. Soon, they were both sporting far better camouflage, with Steve held tight against Bucky’s chest. Bucky had removed his helmet since it was easier to dirty Steve’s soft blond hair than the hardened protective gear._  
  
_Bucky pulled his sidearm and went still. The loud crackle of shooting, and the shuddering of the earth at his back every time a shell hit its mark was beginning to get to Bucky._  
  
_“You can’t do this to me again, punk,” Bucky muttered against Steve’s ear. “Serum’s supposed to stop this. You’re s’posed to wake up, Steve.”_  
  
_Steve’s body heat ran hot enough to seep through both of their dampened uniforms, but Bucky’s teeth still started chattering after roughly an hour. This was crazy. Steve should have been awake by now. There was no doubt that he was still alive, but Bucky was terrified that he hadn’t roused yet. His fears ate at him while the chaos around their perimeter frayed his nerves._  
  
_They might be fairly well-concealed now, but they were still sitting ducks._  
  
_He could hear more than the shells. More than the agonized screams in the distance. He heard groans and snaps that he knew he shouldn’t be able to. The strain of the ground as the water continually pressed against it. The scurrying of animals that should have already startled and fled. The scratching of predators who didn’t care about the retreating blasts. The panting of men fleeing toward a lifetime of hiding, hoping they’d never be caught and held accountable._  
  
_He’d see more too, if he could stand to open his eyes. It had been this way since Steve had broken him out of the lab. Under the normal chaos of a mission, Bucky could reap the benefits of Zola’s experiments and mostly push aside the horrors. Now though, his mission was staying still and not being detected. It left his mind too much time to wander. Too much time to remember. Too much time to worry about the repercussions of the “gifts” Zola had given him._  
  
_There was something wrong with him. Something he’d never be able to tell anyone about._  
  
_Not even Steve._

________________________________  


_They crept forward, barely making any noise with the gurgling water covering their footfalls. The Commandos had scattered by necessity after the initial shower of artillery, but now they were regrouped and trying to find their last two. There wasn’t a spot on Dugan that didn’t itch with caked dirt and mud, but all he really cared about right then was finding Cap and Sarge. The fighting had finally died down, but daybreak was fast approaching. Best that they collect their two strays and get the hell outta Dodge before they lost cover._  
  
_“Bleib zurück!”_  
  
_Dugan froze at the low, growling command. He wasn’t German, but he damn well knew what that phrase meant. It certainly didn’t make him feel any better being lobbed at him in a voice he knew as well as his own._  
  
_“Sarge…?” He peered into the darkness, not seeing anything. Dark as it was, the moon would occasionally break from the clouds and give them a bit more light. It did so now, but Dugan still couldn’t see shit._  
  
_“Ich werde schießen!”_  
  
_Now that got his blood icing a little in his veins. Sarge had freakishly good eyesight; he really had to in order to be the sniper he was. The fact that Sarge could obviously see him, but he couldn’t see Sarge was unnerving at best. His tone of voice was wrong. Not nearly sarcastic enough, and far too afraid._  
  
_And where was Cap? He tempered Sarge in a way that wasn’t just comforting; it was downright necessary. None of them had any illusions about what Sarge must’ve gone through in that lab. They’d seen the pile of bodies outside. Hell, they’d been sure he was dead too, until they’d seen him as he’d emerged glassy-eyed and haunted, with Cap hovering at his elbow. They could pretend he was fine so long as he was cracking jokes, and lighting up smokes, but they all knew the reality._  
  
_Sarge was an exposed wire. A wire that might not cause any harm at all, so long as nothing flammable got too near him._  
  
_Cold, isolated, and without his best friend while all hell broke loose around him, this kind of night could easily be just that._  
  
_“Sarge,” he called out, wary of their still-volatile environment, “it’s Dugan. Got the other Commandos with me… We gotta get outta here and find Cap. Sun’ll be up soon. Gotta find a place to hole up…”_  
  
_“Dugan,” Gabe warned, suddenly putting a hand to his arm, “behind the brush. He’s got his sidearm on us.”_  
  
_“He could take half of us out before we even blinked,” Dugan grunted. “We need Cap here to talk to him. Snap him out of it.”_  
  
_“That’s not gonna happen,” Gabe answered sharply, his eyesight better than theirs. “Cap’s with him.”_  
  
_“So why’s he speaking German?” Morita whispered worriedly._  
  
_“Cap’s down,” Gabe whispered back, causing Dugan to inwardly swear. “He’s holding Cap against him to cover him.”_  
  
_“Thinks we’re Nazis,” Dugan growled. “His head’s all rattled again.”_  
  
_“So talk to Rogers,” Fallsworth finally instructed. They all turned to look at him._  
  
_“You heard Gabe,” Morita scoffed. “Cap’s down. Sarge is goin’ mama bear on us.”_  
  
_“So wake Rogers up,” Fallsworth answered. “Unless he’s dead, he has that serum in him. Just get closer and call to him.”_  
  
_They all looked at one another, trying to decide who should take one for the team. When they all looked at Dernier, the older man snorted and flipped them off._  
  
_“Non! Je ne suis pas stupide!”_  
  
_“For godsakes, how did any of you ever make it through bootcamp?” Fallsworth sighed, pulling his pack and rifle strap over his head._  
  
_“By not being stupide,” Morita offered as he took the items handed to him._  
  
_Fallsworth shook his head as he inched closer. “Sergeant Barnes…? Fallsworth here. Is Rogers… Is Steve alright…?”_  
  
_All he got in response was a slight shifting in the brush ahead of them, and a split-second glint of moonlight on metal._  
  
_“Steve… Steve Rogers…” Monty was calling as loudly as he dared. He continued his soft pleas until they heard a long groan._  
  
_“Steve…? Sarge needs you to wake up.”_  
  
_Dernier leaned forward, elbowing Gabe and speaking softly._  
  
_“Steve… Bucky needs you,” Gabe corrected for Monty._  
  
_“Yes, Bucky needs your help…” Fallsworth agreed._  
  
_There was more groaning, and some shifting. The minutes seemed to drag on, each of the Commandos freezing their collective asses off as they stood still in the creek. None of them had any intention of moving until they knew Barnes had his gun put away._  
  
_“Buck,” they finally heard through the darkness, “S’okay, Buck… S’our men...”_  
  
_There was more murmuring that Dugan couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded like Roger’s voice. The minutes ticked by until the silence was finally broken again._  
  
_“Dugan…?”_  
  
_The cracking voice was pure music to Dugan’s ears. “Yeah, Sarge…?”_  
  
_“The fuck ya standin’ ‘round for? Steve’s wounded…”_  
  
_There should have been way more bravado and authority behind that voice, but that was okay. Sarge would right himself on the march out. By the time they got to their planned base camp, everything in that razor-sharp mind would be spinning the right direction, especially if Cap was moving under his own power and on the mend._  
  
_If the ice blue eyes peering out from that muddied face were a little too icy and shifty… no one was going to talk about it. None of them felt unsafe. Just a little unnerved and a whole lot relieved once the air cleared and Barnes’ gun lowered._  
  
_“On it, Sarge,” Dugan answered gratefully._  
  
_________________________________________  


_Hypothermia._  
  
_That was what they put in the report. They wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, had they not been a day late for their rendezvous point. He’d read it, and he’d hated every word, but Bucky had dismissed it as being better than being deemed unfit to serve. Steve wanted Bucky home, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of Bucky hating him for forcing him to go._  
  
_He’d come to in Bucky’s arms. As much as that should have been appealing, the mud and the cold were uncomfortable even to him. To make matters worse, Bucky was violently shaking against his back, and he’d been confused enough to mistake the boys for Germans. If the Commandos had been able to see better on that dark night, they would have realized that even Bucky wouldn’t have been able to shoot straight in that condition. Not that it would have mattered. They knew well enough that Bucky didn’t need a gun to be formidable. A gun just made his lethality absolute. None of them were going to tangle with him with a gun in his hand, even incapacitated._  
  
_So hypothermia wasn’t entirely incorrect, but it wasn’t entirely accurate either._  
  
_Steve had been walking on his own fairly quickly once he’d regained consciousness. He’d thanked the darkness for giving him enough cover to be the one giving more support to Bucky than vice versa. It was important for Bucky’s health to always appear competent and in control. Even if it really had only been hypothermia to blame, Bucky would have been annoyed with what he’d perceive as weakness. Nothing Steve could say to him would change that._  
  
_So when Bucky had shoved away the wool blanket offered to him, Steve had pretended to be worse off than he was. He hadn’t said anything. He’d simply let his body language speak to the protective streak that still ruled Bucky’s every decision and action. Head listing forward and shoulders slumped, Steve had dropped down to his bedroll harder than necessary. He’d given a little wince and a soft gasp as he closed his eyes and curled in on himself._  
  
_A few minutes was all it took before Bucky was beside him, draping the blanket over both their bodies and wrapping himself around Steve like he was still a ninety pound runt._  
  
_The knowing look that Steve had exchanged with Fallsworth over Bucky’s shoulder was silently acknowledged, then promptly and conveniently forgotten._  
  
_As Bucky shivered against him, Steve would forever be grateful for the men in their ragtag group, and their own protectiveness of their sergeant._

  
________________________________________  
  
  
Bucky was absently chewing on the straw in his second coffee. He’d gone with an iced mocha this time. The heat of the first cup had soothed a bit of his tension, and now he was trying to ditch the last vestiges of his headache. He released the straw from between his lips and pressed the plastic cup to his temple, the ice cubes doing their intended job for the most part. He groaned softly, and the sound caused Steve to pause and turn in the hallway to look at him.  
  
“Buck?”  
  
“Just a headache, Stevie.”  
  
“I know but…” Steve stepped closer and rubbed gentle circles over Bucky’s skull. Bucky couldn’t help but wince a little, and Steve took it as his cue to lighten the pressure a bit, and move his soothing massage to another part of Bucky’s head. This time Bucky relaxed into Steve’s ministrations, earning him a soft smile.  
  
“You always did love this.”  
  
“Loved it when you did it,” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s shoulder. “Usedta do it myself imagining it was your fingers… First time you did this, thought I was gonna come in my pants.”  
  
Steve smiled against Bucky’s temple and pressed a tender kiss there. “I wouldn’t have minded,” he answered, only letting go long enough to manually turn down his modulator. “Would have cleaned you up and tucked you into bed. Would have climbed in beside you and done it some more.”  
  
Bucky groaned again and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve kept up the light patterns through Bucky’s scalp.  
  
They’d taken the long way toward the containment floor. Bucky needed time to further uncoil enough for them to get their game faces on, and talk about what would happen next. They were still a floor below their destination, and Steve eased away from Bucky to push open the door to the stairs. Bucky was no longer fond of stairwells, though this one looked nothing like the one in LA. Nothing Stark built was drab; even his labs bore embellishments and this was no different. Bucky stared at the subtle art deco trim surrounding the door frames, landing rails, and era-stylized Stark, Industries logo as he entered the landing. Steve gave him a gentle nudge, so he began to slowly climb the stairs while trying not to think about mako charges or crushed cell phones.  
  
Two strong hands found their way to his hips. Bucky glanced back, but Steve didn’t return his look. Instead, his thumbs rucked up Bucky’s shirt just enough for him to place a kiss to the small of Bucky’s back. He stopped climbing, but Steve just tapped his hip and smiled up at him.  
  
“Go on,” he instructed. “Know where your head’s at. Just gonna fix it.”  
  
Bucky just stared at Steve, his bottom lip going a little loose.  
  
“Not having sex in a stairwell-”  
  
“Definitely not,” Bucky winced.  
  
“-but I think you’re in need of some positive reinforcement about stairwells.”  
  
Bucky wasn’t exactly sure what Steve meant, but he started back up the steps anyway. Steve pressed another kiss to Bucky’s skin, and it stopped him short. He turned his head again to stare down at Steve. His wicked shit of a boyfriend smiled, then moved a fraction to the right to repeat the process. Goosebumps broke out over Bucky’s flesh, and he shivered.  
  
“ _Move_ , Buck,” he ordered.  
  
Bucky complied, headache rapidly fading.  
  
They reached their floor, and by the time Steve stepped ahead of Bucky to again open the door, Bucky felt his heart begin to skip and flutter. His whole body felt like it was warming up, and definitely not from the caffeine.  
  
There was no way Steve couldn’t feel the spike of arousal through their new connection. Steve glanced back at him with knowing eyes to confirm it, and Bucky completely lost his shit.  
  
He’d figured out how to actively give off sensations and emotions so that Bucky could feel them. Of course Steve would manage to figure that out on his own, then turn it on Bucky.  
  
A hint of static sounded in Bucky’s ears, and he surged forward to grab the back of Steve’s bicep. Steve allowed himself to be spun around and pushed against the wall. He couldn’t grasp much reason; all he knew was he needed to get at Steve. His chest thrummed with something just shy of feral, and he broke out into a cold sweat. Bucky crowded into Steve’s space, knowing there was warmth to bury himself inside. Steve stroked his fingers over Bucky’s hair and called to him.  
  
“Bucky… focus.”  
  
It was a simple enough command; it only gave Bucky a slight pause, but it was enough. As soon as he looked at Steve, the static in his head cleared. What filled him immediately was pure, unbridled need, and he suddenly understood what Steve must have felt after Tony brought him back inside from the alley. Somehow Steve had managed to distill the urge down to something more refined. With the static now filtered out, Bucky could reel himself in enough to maintain control.  
  
That didn’t mean he could exactly be sweet and tender though. Frustration and anger prickled along his nerves so fiercely that it hurt, and there was no way he could tamp that down entirely. He leaned forward, needing Steve but not trusting himself to do more. He buried his face against Steve’s neck and growled as his metal fingers dug into the wall beside Steve’s shoulder.  
  
Suddenly he was being shoved backward. Bucky blinked hard, stunned by Steve’s action. Thinking he was being shut down, he took a step back. Steve had shut off his modulator, but his hand moved in a deliberate pattern that Bucky read clearly.  
   
**Come on.**  
   
Bucky’s eyes flicked from Steve’s hand to his face, He hadn’t moved toward their suite, and Bucky wasn’t sure he should assume that he’d been given any kind of green light to act upon his needs.  
  
What he got for his confused indecision was another shove, much harder this time. Bucky growled again, but Steve smacked the wall beside himself and impatiently gestured again.  
   
**Come ON, Bucky.**  
   
Bucky exploded forward, his body slamming against Steve’s. The loud grunt of the wind being knocked from Steve’s lungs almost caused Bucky to pull back, but Steve threw his arms around Bucky’s neck and brought their lips together. A fast-dimming part of Bucky’s brain worried that Steve was doing this in return for what Bucky allowed him to do after the alley, but he didn’t stop their tangle. They had promised each other never to let anything go too far.  
  
“Steve…”  
  
Steve didn’t answer him verbally, probably thinking Bucky didn’t need to hear the modulator just then. What he did instead brought tears to Bucky’s eyes. He pressed four fingers to Bucky’s neck, then pinched, except this time, he did it hard enough to hurt. It was the kind of pain that caused Bucky’s nerves to sizzle.  
  
He shoved his hands beneath Steve’s sweatshirt, dragging his fingers over skin with just enough tension to sting. His brain was too frantic to return Steve’s declaration verbally, so he was determined to show him in the only way he was currently able. He knew Steve was feeling everything going through him, though he couldn’t be sure to what extent, so Bucky took Steve’s challenge to heart and threw everything he had into this one moment. He had no way to know if he’d get another chance to.  
  
He attacked Steve’s mouth as his right hand slid down Steve’s sweatpants. The wanton growl he got was perfect. Steve was so hard, and Bucky would have loved to ride him again, but this wasn’t the right time. He needed more than that. He had too much anger and hurt inside him that needed to be vented, and he realized suddenly that Steve knew that. He knew Bucky needed to take and to dominate this tangle between them.  
  
He began to shove at Steve’s sweats, desperate to have the barriers between them gone.  
  
“Off,” he gasped, and Steve immediately took to pushing off his tennis shoes. Whether or not Jarvis took Bucky’s verbal demand as direction or not was debatable, but the lights in the corridor dimmed dramatically. Bucky didn’t care. He could still see Steve just fine in the low light, but it wasn’t necessary at the moment. All that mattered was the feel of Steve’s ass against the palm of his right hand, and the way Steve’s hands felt around him as he freed Bucky’s cock. What mattered was the weight of Steve in his arms as he lifted Steve, and the way Steve’s legs wrapped around his waist. What especially mattered was the heat and pressure around his cock as he slid inside Steve, still slick and welcoming from their earlier round, and how tightly Steve held onto him as he took him hard and fast.  
Bucky was having a hard time taking in a full breath. Even as he felt himself getting close to climax, he knew he was also on the verge of a panic attack. The effects of not getting enough oxygen was actually driving him faster toward his orgasm, and the mix of fight-or-flight adrenaline and physical pleasure was terrifying… but also intoxicating. He felt like he was slipping down a steep slope with no way to stop his fall.  
  
“Breathe… breathe…”  
  
He didn’t realize he was stuttering the words aloud until Steve stopped the mantra with his own lips. He kissed Bucky passionately. The contact was so forceful that when Bucky pulled away, the long gasp of air that he sucked in sent him right over the edge, the oxygen flooding his brain and the rest of his body. He buried his face against Steve’s neck as he came, gasping desperately for more air. Tears flowed from his eyes as his ragged breathing turned to agonized sobs.  
  
“Don’t leave me,” he repeated too many times to count, his chest heaving as he slipped free of Steve. His lover dropped his legs as Bucky’s knees gave out. They both slid to the floor, and Steve shifted to quickly pull Bucky into his arms. He didn’t say anything, just held Bucky as he shook against Steve’s chest. There was nothing he could say to comfort Bucky that he hadn’t already, and most of it rang terribly hollow anyway.  
  
  
__________________________________________  
  
  
Bucky wasn’t sure how they ended up on the couch, but somehow they were there. Steve was stretched out along the length of the couch, and Bucky rested atop him with Steve’s heart beating beneath his ear. The snow was still coming down, and Steve had draped a light blanket over Bucky. He didn’t technically need it, but the emotional value of feeling warm and protected was immeasurably comforting.  
  
But… they were on _the couch_...  
  
Bucky jerked his head upward and shot a distasteful look at the couch, but Steve was quick to soothe him.  
  
“New couch, Buck. Jarvis said they brought a new one in while we went for coffee.”  
  
“Oh.” Bucky let his cheek fall back to Steve’s chest with a soft grunt of relief.  
  
“Wanna talk about earlier?”  
  
“No,” Bucky huffed.  
  
“Probably should,” Steve hedged worriedly.  
  
“No,” Bucky answered more firmly. Steve silently acquiesced, and Bucky’s heart slowed back down to normal.  
  
“Tryin’ to be strong for you,” he muttered, hating that he’d fallen apart in the hallway.  
  
“Nothing weak about your performance in the hallway,” Steve teased him, causing a mild flare of irritation to shoot through him. Steve obviously felt it because his grip upon Bucky tightened.  
  
“Strongest person I know, James Buchanan Barnes.”  
  
Bucky mulled that over before choosing to hide behind a bit of snark.  
  
“At least that fuckin' thing got my name right this time.”  
  
That got him the diet version of Steve’s laugh, but that was okay. It was better than nothing.  
  
“I want to email Katie,” Steve said after a while. Bucky wasn’t keen to give up his overgrown heating pad, but he knew Steve was already set upon keeping their promise to the little girl.  
  
“Okay.” He sat up, but then balked when Steve started to pull him from the couch. “What?”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘what’? Come with me.”  
  
“Steve… c’mon…” he whined.  
  
“No, I need you to write it,” Steve explained with infinite patience on his face.  
  
“Huh? Steve, no. I’m not up for it,” Bucky frowned, his ass still firmly planted upon the couch cushions. Steve gave a sharp yank, and Bucky yelped as he was jerked to his feet. Steve cradled his face and smiled his most motivational smile.  
  
“That’s exactly why you need to write it.”  
  
“I’m not bright and shiny right now, Steve!” Bucky couldn’t begin to imagine writing a note to anyone in a tone that was anywhere near appropriate for public consumption, much less a precious child like Katie. “I do not wanna pretend I'm a nice person, even for Katie.”  
  
“You  _are_ a nice person, and if you do this some of the mood might rub off,” Steve tried to reason. Bucky just blinked at him.  
  
“Fake it ‘til ya make it?!”  
  
“Sure,” Steve nodded with an upward jerk of his shoulders, his eyes far too wide and innocent looking to be genuine.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Steve, you know that shit doesn’t work with me,” Bucky scoffed in annoyance.  
  
“Only when you’re grumpy-”  
  
“I _am_ grumpy… with good reason!”  
  
Steve just rested his hands upon his hips and looked like a kicked puppy.  
  
“I’m not going to give in to that this time,” Bucky insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest and squaring his shoulders. “Stop it, Steve.”  
   
  
__________________________________________  
   
   
**Hi Katie,**  
  
**I’m sorry that we missed our usual email time, but it’s been a little scary outside. Steve and I have been out there trying to help make it better, so we hope you’ll forgive us. We both miss you and hope you’re feeling okay. We think about you all the time and hope…**  
   
  
Bucky’s fingers stalled, then curled until his hands were balled into fists above the keyboard. Hope. Hope for what? Life wasn’t in any way fair, and he felt like a hypocrite trying to convince her that it could be okay. Life was hateful and painful, and the moment you found something good, it inevitably got taken away from you.  
  
“I can’t do this,” he choked out through gritted teeth. Beside him, Steve pressed closer and kissed his temple.  
  
“Yes you can, Buck,” he reassured. Bucky just shook his head and growled in frustration.  
  
“She’s not gonna make it, Steve. None of us are. It’s just endgame now.”  
  
“Bucky-” Steve shoved Bucky’s chair to spin it around, then ducked his head to give Bucky a hard look. “There is nothing set in stone for either Katie or me. I haven’t even started the treatments yet, and Katie was holding her own the last we knew.”  
  
“We don’t even know that she’s still alive. We don’t know that she survived the initial spread of infection,” Bucky spat out, seething with anger.  
  
“Hey… I know you’re scared. I know why you’re afraid to hope,” Steve began with more patience than Bucky probably deserved. “You have to try though, Bucky. Please. For me, please try. You had more faith in me than I had in myself sometimes. Hell, Miss Lena said you refused to give up on me even when she had her doubts and tried to prepare you for the worst. You never would listen to her.”  
  
“I didn’t know any better back then,” Bucky winced, rubbing at his eyes and feeling another headache slowly starting to creep into his brain. “I was an optimist because I thought I’d seen the worst life could throw at us. I didn’t fucking know the half of it.”  
  
Steve was quiet for a long time before he spoke. “When you showed up in my apartment after that thing fell on me… I told you I knew you weren’t that same kid. I meant that. I’ve never expected you to be him, and I’ve never asked you to try to go back to being that kid again… but I’m going to now. I’m asking you to try to find a way just this once. I need you to have that kind of faith in me again-”  
  
“I always have faith in you, Steve,” Bucky snapped with irritation bleeding through his words. “It’s fucking fate and the world and the universe I don’t trust.”  
  
“You don’t have to have faith in any of that,” Steve smiled. “Just me. I’m being selfish; I need you to have faith in me like you used to… and part of that is writing the fucking email to Katie.”  
  
“Fuckin’ hate you,” Bucky huffed, knowing Steve had him where he wanted him.  
  
“Cool, hate me while you finish the email,” Steve retorted, not offended in the least by Bucky’s grumpy reply.  
  
“Steve-”  
  
“We have to believe she’s there and still okay,” Steve admonished firmly, holding his hand up to halt further argument. “I’d write it myself, but I think it’s important that you do it this time.”  
  
Bucky rubbed at his face, then at his forehead. “I need chocolate… and a Mt. Dew…” It was their personal code for Bucky having a stress headache again. The one-two punch of caffeine usually seemed to help. Given his body’s makeup now, it might have just been an emotional placebo, but whatever. It worked on some level and that was all that counted.  
  
“Got ya,” Steve answered, rubbing Bucky’s shoulders as he stood. “I’m going to order food too.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.” Food was the last thing Bucky thought he could stomach, but his gut could likely handle food better than lying through his teeth in this email.  
   
  
**We think about you all the time and hope you can enjoy the pretty snow that’s falling. Steve and I got to take a break for a few minutes and have a snowball fight on top of Tony Stark’s building. It was really cool. We built little forts and walloped each other. We made a couple of special snowballs and threw them for you too. After, we warmed up with hot chocolate and watched the snow fall outside from our window.**  
  
**Thanksgiving is coming soon. Hope you get to have turkey and stuffing. I remember you like your mom’s vanilla cranberry pudding pie too. Me and Steve are so jealous! We want to try a piece of it someday. Maybe if the weather clears up and things calm down a little we can come see you. Might not be right away, but we’re trying okay? You stay strong and be good for your mom for us.**  
  
**Bucky & Steve  
**  
   
What was a little embellishment on top of a stack of lies, Bucky thought bitterly as he finished the email. Steve would’ve done a better job of it, but Bucky tried to channel whatever optimism he could from what he thought Steve might say. Apparently it was a better farce than he thought because Steve was at his back with his chin dropping to Bucky’s shoulder as he hummed his approval. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple as he cracked open the Mt. Dew for him. A slice of the chocolate cake and a Snickers bar were set down on the island counter top. Bucky hummed his own approval at the treats, as well as Steve’s arms wrapping around him from behind.  
  
“Jarvis,” Steve called, “can you take a shot of us for Katie? Can you also see what you can find out about the condition of her hospital and whether their quarantine is intact? Oh… can you also fix our eyes so they look… normal…? And erase my modulator?”  
  
“No!” Bucky almost choked on his Snickers trying to get the word out, drawing a curious look from Steve. He took a quick qulp of soda to clear his mouth then tried to make himself clearer.  
  
“Leave his modulator visible, Jarvis.”  
  
“Very well, Bucky. Anything else?” the AI inquired.  
  
“No, just what Steve said before the modulator bit.”  
  
“Very well. I’ll get right on it. Please pose for your selfie.”  
  
Steve threw his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and they both smiled at the camera hologram that appeared before them. Bucky’s smile was about as forced as they came, but when the photo appeared on the laptop screen, it didn’t look as bad as he’d figured. His hair was a bit mussed, but Katie would coo over it. The picture began to go through little tweaks, and Bucky noted with relief that Jarvis was tactfully removing a hickey from one of Bucky’s bites that hadn’t fully disappeared yet.  
  
He realized Steve was still staring at him, and he knew why.  
  
“The kids all think you’re perfect. They all wanna be like you, but they know they can’t, ‘cause their bodies aren’t like yours. Think it’d be good to show them that even Captain America doesn’t feel good sometimes…”  
  
Bucky started typing, and Steve’s eyes followed his cursor.  
   
  
**PS: Steve has a cold that’s made his throat not feel so good. Since he can’t talk, Tony Stark made a thing for him to wear that will talk for him while he gets better. Pretty cool, huh?  
**  
   
Bucky looked up at Steve for approval to find that Steve’s eyes were misty.  
  
“I love you, Buck,” he stated reverently.  
  
“I love you too,” Bucky answered, his own eyes tearing up slightly, but he held his composure. Only the little wobble in his voice gave away the ache in his chest.  
  
The opening of the airlock drew their attention, and Steve stood from his chair.  
  
“Hey lovebirds, open up!”  
  
Bucky smiled slightly at Sam’s antagonistic announcement of his arrival. Steve’s modulator laughed for him, and Bucky wondered what Sam would make of that crazy shit. He heard the door open, and his smile grew even more brittle. It wasn’t up to them to even open their own door anymore. It was up to Jarvis, and only upon Tony and Bruce’s discretion now.  
  
He swiveled his chair around as Sam walked in, pulling a room service cart behind him. Bucky’s stomach clenched, but not from hunger. He should eat, but it was honestly the last thing he wanted to do right then.  
  
“Heard you ordered up, so I figured it was safe to come up and check in,” Sam explained without any patronizing smiles. “Nice hole in the wall, by the way. Stark is threatening to take your new couch back because of it.”  
  
Steve flushed bright red, but looked over at Bucky for explanation about the couch. Bucky didn’t give him one, too intent upon keeping his expression neutral as he chewed mercilessly at the inside of his cheek.  
  
Steve frowned, but turned to Sam with a subtle gesture of his hands. “Tell him I’ll pay for it.”  
  
“Fuck that,” Sam scoffed, then seemed to realize his choice of words. He looked briefly at Steve then stuttered into a laugh. Steve chuckled along with him, and Sam’s eyes grew wide.  
  
“Holy shit…!”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “Weird, I know.”  
  
“Yeah, but… cool. Nice to hear. The sound of the words is getting better too. Sounding more like you.”  
  
“Apparently it's learning. We’re getting more used to it,” Steve nodded slowly. Sam’s eyes flicked sideways to Bucky. As usual, he missed very little.  
  
“Hey, you need anything for your head beyond the usual?”  
  
Bucky thought on it for a few seconds, then shook his head. He really couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t come out sounding ungrateful or nastier than he intended.  
  
“Ya know, your vocal chords are working just fine,” Sam jabbed gently. Bucky knew his intention, which is why he didn’t open his mouth to snap at Sam. He just gave a humorless smile and jerked his shoulders upward, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. After the email he’d just written, and his meltdown in the hallway, he really was on his last reserves.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Sam murmured quietly, holding up a hand. “I get it, man. You two eat and get some rest… We’re gonna expect you in the lab first thing in the morning.”  
  
“We’ll be there, Sam,” Steve replied, his modulator quiet. Bucky just nodded silently, his stomach threatening to reject the soda and candy bar he’d just had. He tasted copper on his tongue from his teeth finally drawing blood.  
  
Sam started for the door, but at the last minute he stopped and turned back around. “Okay, we all debated on when to tell you this, but there is something else…”  
  
Bucky’s eyes closed as his whole body tensed. Of course there was. It was always one more thing, wasn’t it?  
  
“Go ahead, Sam,” Steve instructed. “May as well get it out of the way before tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah, that was my thought too,” Sam frowned. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “Turns out there’s one more thing we can try if these treatments don’t get the reaction we’re hoping for…”  
  
“And that is…?” Steve asked. Bucky’s eyes opened even as his brain supplied the right inflection to Steve’s digitized voice.  
  
“Cryo.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Steve asked, his shoulders tensing up.  
  
Bucky may as well have been back in a tube already because he could feel tendrils of ice creeping back over his skin. He could barely hear as Sam explained further, the roaring in his ears almost enough to throw his equilibrium off and topple him from his chair. Luckily Steve’s back was to him.  
  
“”When we were all helping you look for Bucky, Fury apparently found out about a site in Russia where they kept him before DC. They also kept five other Winter Soldier subjects there… in cryo. Turns out they were too volatile to be used and they were still trying to work out how to fix that-”  
  
“I… I think Bucky said there were others when we were in LA,” Steve nodded. “Where are they?”  
  
“Don’t know,” Sam shrugged.  
  
“Does Fury know?” Steve asked, inflection not needed to understand the accusation in his question.  
  
“Don’t know that either,” Sam sighed. “All we know is that Fury asked Tony to stash the cryo units on the sly. They’re here somewhere in the tower, though Tony won’t say where… at least not yet.”  
  
“Well that’s just…” Steve threw his hands up helplessly. "What was he planning on doing with those? Keep them on hand in case Bucky didn't come to heel for him?"  
  
"Again... don't know. Not out of the realm of possibilities where Fury's concerned," Sam answered carefully, his eyes watching Bucky's reaction closely. Bucky was fighting to keep his expression fixed, trying desperately to draw upon his winter soldier stoicism.  
  
“That’s just spectacular, Sam.”  
  
“I know, man. I know. Point is… we can use one. Cryo stops everything. It would buy us time if it comes to worst case scenario-”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
Both men turned toward Bucky as the hiss of contempt left his mouth. There was no hope of stoicism at all. He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the howling in his ears.  
  
“It’s not the same procedure as before,” Sam warned, holding his hands up plaintively toward the seething super soldier. “Tony’s been in touch with King T’Challa in Wakanda. He told Tony how to revamp the tubes to make them humane and-”  
  
“Fuck. You _._ ” Bucky snarled. “The fuck is wrong with you people?”  
  
“Sam, you’d better go,” Steve frowned. “Thanks for telling us though.” He quickly walked their friend to the door.  
  
“Sorry, man. Didn’t wanna leave you out of the loop on this. It’s gonna take a lot of thought to decide.”  
  
“No, you were right to tell us,” Steve assured him with a clap to his shoulder. “I appreciate it. Buck does too, it’s just…”  
  
“I get it. It’s cool. Do your thing,” Sam dismissed. “See you in the morning.”  
  
Steve stepped back as Jarvis automatically shut the door. Whatever he saw when he turned to look at Bucky, it had him rushing forward to take Bucky’s face into his hands.  
  
“Buck… stop. Bucky! Breathe!”  
  
He realized he’d been shaking his head from side to side, struck too dumb by the thought of someone actually considering cryo a plausible option. He didn’t care who King T’Challa was, or what improvements he’d supposedly given Stark. All he knew of cryo was bone-snapping convulsions from cold that couldn’t be justly described in any language. Biting through the end of your tongue wasn’t something he wanted to explain to Steve either, or how he wanted to scream each time but literally could not physically manage it. They started giving him sedatives later on, but nothing that blocked the pain. It only made him too muzzy to convulse. Air freezing inside your lungs was still freezing air. Popped bones were still popped bones that hurt like hell when you woke up. Nothing happened in cryo. You didn’t dream. You didn’t age. You didn’t get worse, but you didn’t heal either.  
  
“Jesus, your lips are blue...! Breathe, Bucky… Come on, baby, breathe!”  
  
He wished he could. He wished he could remember the things Bruce and Sam taught him. His lungs remembered that awful feeling instead. Every muscle shuddered with the memories.  
  
“Can’t… You can’t…”  
  
“Shhh… just breathe. We don’t have to talk about it now. We’ve both had too much thrown at us today. Try to calm yourself down, then we can eat something then go to bed, okay?”  
  
“No,” Bucky blurted out. “No!”  
  
He pulled away sharply and shoved Steve, his teeth chattering as he pulled himself upright. His pulse was racing, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that Steve was right about eating first, but he couldn’t.  
  
“I can’t...”  
  
“Bucky, just come sit down with me, okay?” Steve pleaded with him as he gestured to the couch. The new couch.  
  
“I can’t discuss this… I can’t even talk to you about you going under,” Bucky snapped, his arm whining with a sharp surge of power as he fought the urge to hit something.  
  
“It’s not the same now, Buck-”  
  
“ _I don’t care!_ ” Bucky screamed at him. “They are not putting you in one of those things!” He clamped his hand over his mouth, ashamed that he’d yelled at Steve like that. Steve hadn’t done anything wrong. He couldn’t begin to imagine what entering cryo was like. No one could unless they’d been in and survived it. A lot of winter soldier subjects didn’t, even with the serum HYDRA had. Some seemed fine until they thawed… and then they ended up choking on their own blood while technicians were dragging them to the chair. Half the time they didn’t even notice the subjects had died until the electrodes were attached. The bodies were shoved to the floor while a new one was brought in, ignored until other techs came in to dispose of it.  
  
“Bucky!”  
  
“You need to fucking eat,” Bucky whispered, bile already rising in his throat from both the memories, and from what he was saying to Steve. “I’m going to bed,” he gasped, then bolted for their bedroom.  
  
Thankfully Steve didn’t follow to try to comfort him as he emptied his stomach.  
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
It was a while later before Steve slipped into bed beside him. There was no ruse of sleep; Bucky was still sitting upright against the headboard with his knees tucked close to his chest. His hands limply rested in his lap as he stared at the Chrysler building. Steve didn’t attempt to talk to him at first. Instead he pulled Bucky against his chest. Bucky went willingly, aware of Steve, but not fully outside his own head either. Another memory had come back, and Bucky wasn’t sure what had triggered this particular bit to resurface.   
   
_He’d come home from work one late fall afternoon to find Steve frostier than a scorned lover. It was chilly in the apartment, but Steve’s anger was radiating off him in waves that were apparently keeping him plenty warm because when Bucky walked up behind him to fuss about him catching a chill, he got shoved backward._  
  
_They hadn’t had a real argument in ages, so it caught Bucky completely off guard._  
  
_“What’s wrong?”_  
  
_Steve’s chest was heaving as he gripped the back of the couch. “Thought you said you were an orphan like me.”_  
  
_“I am,” Bucky frowned, holding his hands aloft with his palms up, and not understanding where the line of questioning was coming from._  
  
_“Some guy dropped by here… Said he was your uncle,” Steve told him, his eyes on fire with unspoken accusation. Before Bucky could get over the shock of that, Steve marched over to their makeshift table and snatched up an envelope. He slapped it against Bucky’s chest, who barely managed to grab onto it before it fell._  
  
_“He left that for you.”_  
  
_Bucky fumbled the envelope about in his hands until he could read it._  
  
_“What’s this?” he asked, still slow on the uptake._  
  
_“You tell me,” Steve snapped. “You made it sound like you were all alone. You explain some uncle showing up and leaving an envelope from your family.”_  
  
_Only his name was on the outside, but he could see the faint imprint from where it had been inside another envelope that had been hand stamped by the postal service. The ink had bled through enough for him to see the origin post office._  
  
_Shelbyville._  
  
_His jaw slacked as he stared at the mottled imprint near the corner. He looked up at Steve, who was still vibrating with rage._  
  
_He slowly opened the envelope and skimmed the letter to find it signed by his sister, Rebecca. She’d asked his Uncle Jim (who he’d supposedly been named after, though he didn’t remember the guy ever being around) to track him down if possible. She intended to move back to Brooklyn in time and wanted to see him._  
  
_“It’s from my sister,” he muttered._  
  
_“What sister,” Steve hissed. “You never mentioned her. You never mentioned an uncle. The only reason I let him in at all was because he said his name was James Barnes, and that your ma named you after him because she didn’t want you to be a George Junior.”_  
  
_“Steve-”_  
  
_“Don’t you dare brush this off, or try to charm your way through it,” Steve warned. “You better level with me. Were you lying about your folks? Are they back in Shelbyville?”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “In Forest Hill Cemetery.” A fleeting look of shame and contrition passed Steve’s face, but he bit his lip and waited for Bucky to explain more. Bucky had never wanted to talk about his family like Steve talked about his mother, Sarah. Bucky realized with a jolt of sheer panic and fear that Steve might be pissed off enough to part ways with him if he didn’t open up now._  
  
_“They died here, but Ma’s family wanted them buried in Shelbyville,” Bucky explained quietly. “They wanted to pack me an’ Becs up an’ move us back out there, but… I couldn’t stand the thought of it. We visited a few times an’ I just remember hating it. Everyone was so stuffy an’ snooty… I didn’t wanna live with them so I ran away. They raised Becs though. She’s determined to move back out here when she’s old enough. Guess she doesn’t like Shelbyville either…”_  
  
_“Why didn’t you ever mention her?” Steve asked again, but his voice was at least calmer now. It relieved Bucky a little, but his gut still whirled with anxiety over Steve leaving._  
  
_“Ashamed mostly,” he muttered, unable to meet Steve’s eye and feeling like he was about to disappoint the younger man that meant the world to him. “Shoulda gone with her… be a proper big brother to her… but I was a kid an’ I was selfish. Didn’t wanna be told what to do anymore.”_  
  
_“And your Uncle James…?”_  
  
_“Jim,” Bucky corrected. “That’s how they referred to him, but I never really knew him.”_  
  
_“But you were named after him-” Steve began, as if that should be important somehow._  
  
_“Well yeah, that’s what Ma said, but if he was never around it don’t really matter, Steve.”_  
  
_Steve regarded him warily, still afraid of having been somehow betrayed. Bucky couldn’t think of anything he’d want to do less than hurt Steve._  
  
_“How long were you on your own before we met?”_  
  
_“Little over a year, Steve. Told ya that,” Bucky answered wearily._  
  
_“But you said you were in a home before you got this place,” Steve scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Was that a lie?”_  
  
_“Never lied to you once,” Bucky swore fervently. “They put us in a home until someone from Ma’s family could come get us. When I heard they wanted to take us back to Shelbyville, I bolted. Had to live pretty fuckin’ rough for a while because they were lookin’ for me. Once their car stopped showin’ up outside the home, I knew I was free an’ clear. Too old for the cops to actively look for, an’ the jobs I took weren’t gonna bother rattin’ me out.”_  
  
_Steve just stared at Bucky, still trying to make up his mind. Bucky couldn’t really bear it._  
  
_“You gonna leave me ‘cause of this?” The question didn’t come out exactly as he intended, but fuck it. He had to know because he felt like he couldn’t breathe thinking of being alone again without Steve’s presence to fill the empty space._  
  
_Steve’s shoulders drooped along with his head. Finally he shook his head and groaned._  
  
_“Nah, Buck,” he sighed, lifting his head back up. He walked around to the front of the couch to drop down heavily. “Why didn’t ya tell me this stuff though?”_  
  
_Bucky let out a harsh breath and dropped onto the couch a respectful distance from Steve. He shrugged and let the envelope crackle loudly against his thigh as his hands fell to his lap._  
  
_“Do you like talkin’ ‘bout your medical problems?”_  
  
_Steve gave him a long, assessing look before answering. “No.”_  
  
_“Well my problem’s my family, an’ I don’t much like talkin’ ‘bout them either,” Bucky huffed softly. “Sorry if ya feel like I broke your trust though… Wasn’t my intention, Stevie.”_  
  
_“S’okay, Buck,” Steve sighed again. He wrapped his spindly fingers over Bucky’s forearm with more strength than anyone would’ve thought him capable of._  
  
_“Will you tell me about your folks at some point?”_  
  
_“Ugh,” Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Nothin’ to really say, Steve. Pops wasn’t a nice man. Never hit me or nothin’ like that, but… he was cold. Ma wasn’t real affectionate. She was always keeping us mostly away from each other, except when we had to put on a show for the outside.”_  
  
_“Sorry,” Steve murmured._  
  
_“For what?”_  
  
_“For jumping to conclusions… and for how your family was. My ma was amazing and kind… warm and patient… so I can’t imagine how your parents couldn’t be the same for you.”_  
  
_“Wasn’t an easy kid to raise. Pretty headstrong,” Bucky whispered, remembering how he’d tried so many times to get his father’s attention, and not always in positive ways._  
  
_“I don’t believe that,” Steve stated softly, his eyes shining with warmth that Bucky wanted to forever deserve._  
  
_“Believe it,” he muttered. “Was a pint-sized hellion sometimes.”_  
  
_“If you were, I’d bet it was just because you wanted to be loved,” Steve mused. He tugged on Bucky’s shirt, pulling him closer so he could wrap an arm around him in spite of the smell of the docks lingering upon him. “You love being fawned over and cuddled. You like the way things feel. If you weren’t getting that from your folks, I could see why you acted out.”_  
  
_Bucky allowed his cheek to rest to Steve’s shoulder, but then such a wave of exhaustion rolled over him that he shifted and lowered himself so that his temple rested against Steve’s thigh._  
  
_“Can we not talk about this anymore tonight? Really fuckin’ tired, Stevie. M’head hurts.”_  
  
_“Sure, Buck,” Steve whispered. Suddenly, tentative fingers were in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He startled slightly, then froze. The fingers froze as well until Bucky finally allowed himself to relax into it. The touch was something he never thought he’d get from Steve, and he fought to stay awake long enough to truly relish it, now that he knew he wouldn’t embarrass himself over it._  
   
   
   
“Bucky…?” Steve’s voice called to him, but not really the voice he responded to. Still… “Bucky, can you come back to me? Let me know where you are please?”  
  
He didn’t really want to talk, but he knew it would frighten Steve if he didn’t.  
  
“M’here,” he rasped, and felt Steve’s body relax beside him.  
  
“Thank you,” Steve answered gratefully. “Where were you, Buck?”  
  
“Brooklyn,” Bucky whispered. He shifted so his head was cradled against Steve’s leg. It definitely made a better pillow now than it did back then. “When my Uncle Jim showed up outta nowhere.”  
  
Steve’s hands found his scalp like they did that day so long ago. Bucky knew he remembered as if it were just hours ago.  
  
“Did you just remember it?”  
  
“Yeah… Don’t know why.”  
  
“You were just telling me about the first time I did this,” Steve answered, referring to his fingers being in Bucky’s hair as he petted him. “That was the day it first happened.”  
  
Bucky just stared at the Chrysler building again. Jim Barnes showing up had made for a horrible day, but had ultimately given them some great moments in their lives. He’d been a good man, often wanting to help out far more than their collective pride would allow. There were instances when Steve would be sick and Jim would send help in the form of a few dollars that Bucky never mentioned. Steve might have known, but they never talked about it. Twice it had made the difference between life and death for Steve, and Bucky would’ve fought Steve tooth and nail over it if it had come down to that.  
  
But they just never discussed it.  
  
"He gave me money sometimes... Mostly when you were really sick."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Didn't think you'd like it if you knew," Bucky muttered, wrapping his hand beneath Steve's leg.  
  
"Hated it," Steve admitted, "but I was grateful regardless. Meant I woke up to your worried mug fussing over me again."  
  
“Don’t do it,” Bucky pleaded softly, wishing this was something else they could just pointedly ignore. Sadly, it wasn't.  
  
“Not gonna make a decision yet, okay? At least not until after the first couple of treatments,” Steve promised, his fingers never stopping their hypnotic dance through Bucky’s dark tresses. “If they don’t work well enough… then we’ll have to talk about it again, okay? I’d rather go through that and wait out a cure than leave you forever.”  
  
Knowing it was a reasonable answer, and not wanting to fight over it, Bucky just nodded his head. Steve scooted down so he was wrapped around Bucky, and he finally managed to drift off, desperately hoping that tomorrow would bring better news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Thank you for all the lovely birthday wishes! You're all so sweet to me and I love y'all to bits. <3


	16. “T’hell with gently!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has to dig deep to figure out how to deal with Steve's condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm continually saying sorry for taking forever with these new chapters! Hopefully y'all are still with me. It's just harder to write the more Steve's health issues progress. I had a nasty writer's block set in after the last chapter even though I had some bits of this chapter written. I started doing @Adventures_of_Bucky_Cat on Instagram, and writing little bits for him and Steeb helped me get back on the horse so to speak.
> 
> And then a little terror of a black kitten with striking, soulful eyes fell into my life... and kittening is damn hard. It's been twelve years since I've mama'd a bottle feeder, and good grief, it's amazing how you forget shit like claws up your legs, and head gnawing at 3am. His own mama was killed by a car though, and being all black, I knew he'd be last pick of the litter. Between his sass, and his smarts, and his color, and his eyes... yeah... He became Bucky. No other name even occurred. He's just that feisty and he's got a streak of pre-serum Steve in him, which is to say needing to pick fights. We're working on that part though, and he's coming along really well.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So anyhooooo, I was going to cut some of this chapter into the next, but fuckit. Have a nice long one to make up for the wait.
> 
> If you ARE still here... THANK YOU. I know it's shitty to wait for so long for an update, but I'm trying to make it worth it. I adore every single one of you! xoxox

Bucky tried to ignore the light coming in through their window. It wasn’t terribly bright, but it ushered in the unknown, and Bucky had learned to hate the unknown. This wasn’t something that more weapons, backup, and planning could help to avert. There was no tactical way to approach this beyond ‘wait and see’.

He gazed at the snow, still falling undisturbed by the lack of wind. He tried to remember how he felt as he dealt with Steve’s illnesses before the war, particularly when they were so young, and Bucky was still trying to find steady work. It didn’t seem like there were big gaps in his memories anymore, until he went specifically looking for certain events. What bothered him the most was not the lack of memory at times; it was the lack of emotion that sometimes happened. That disconnection he felt, as though the memory was fake, or of someone else entirely. It was those times that he had to check in with Steve to be sure what he remembered was real, that it actually happened at some point. Sometimes it was minutiae that Bucky rarely expected Steve to remember, but he always seemed to anyway.  
  
“Jarvis? When we s’posed to be at the lab?” he whispered, not sure he wanted to disturb Steve’s sleep yet.   
  
“Eight AM, Bucky,” Jarvis answered just as quietly. Bucky looked down at his watch to see that it was just a few minutes past six. He was a little surprised that Steve wasn’t awake yet, but they’d been through so much in such a short time. Still, he knew Steve liked to be on time and mentally prepared, so he rolled over and curled up to Steve’s back.   
  
“Stevie…? You ready to get up an’ about?”   
  
There was a slow hiss as Steve shifted enough to raise one hand.   
  
**No.**

“You okay?”   
  
**Tired. Let me sleep a little longer.**  
**  
** It wasn’t like Steve to put off his responsibilities, but they had almost two hours. At most, Steve just needed to eat and shower. That wouldn’t take very long. If Steve was tired enough to ask to be given more time, Bucky would damn well give it to him.   
  
“Okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck. “I’m gonna tell them to have breakfast up in an hour. That’ll still give you time to eat and shower, okay?”   
  
**OK. Check on Katie.**

“Okay, I will,” Bucky promised. He patted Steve’s hip, then reluctantly climbed from the bed. As much as he’d like to stay there with Steve, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want his restlessness to bleed over to Steve and inhibit his rest.  
  
“I’ll be back in a bit.”  
  
Steve grabbed his hand before he could walk away. Bucky looked down at him in silent question. Steve looked up at him, his eyes so tired, but still so full of adoration.  
  
**Love you.**  
  
“Love you too, Stevie,” Bucky smiled, bending down to kiss Steve’s lips. He placed another kiss to Steve’s forehead, who closed his eyes with a soft smile of his own. Bucky took a moment to card his fingers through Steve’s hair until his breathing evened out with sleep.  
  
He shuffled into the front room and sat down to log into his email. As it loaded, he glanced upward, a habit that was still hard to break.  
  
“Jarvis, did you get the time for breakfast?”  
  
“Yes, Bucky. Is there anything special you’d like?”  
  
“Denver omelettes an’ sausage again,” Bucky murmured, wading through the news headlines that showed up on his homepage. “Toast an’ jam… and fruit. Stevie likes grapefruit… cantaloupe.”   **  
**  
“I’ll note it for the staff.”  
  
“Thank you,” Bucky nodded as his eyes scanned the page.  
  
“Of course,” Jarvis answered succinctly, then went quiet.  
  
Pretty much everything read the same. Zombies. Nationwide, and now numerous cases were showing up in other countries. Fortunately quarantines overseas were put into action immediately, and it resulted in far greater control being gained over the new outbreaks. Doctors knew what they were seeing, and dealt with each case decisively. Bruce, Tony, and Edward Marcase were being credited for their timely sharing of information, in spite of government protocols. Bucky felt torn about that. Ella was being credited for her initial detection of the virus, but no one could give her credit for the work she was still doing. He didn’t know when he’d be able to let go of his anger over what happened, but it didn’t stop Bucky from feeling angry for her. He was unlikely to say so anytime soon, but he knew she was working her ass off. She could probably care less about the acknowledgement, but it was one more thing HYDRA managed to steal from someone, and he was so tired of seeing that happen.  
  
He switched over to his email as he realized that he’d forgotten to question Jarvis about Katie’s hospital. He was about to rectify the oversight when he saw a new email from Katie’s mother, Jocelyn. He clicked the notice, hoping against hope that they were both okay. **  
  
**

**Hello Bucky & Steve,  
  
I can’t tell you how comforting it was to see your email address pop up tonight. Katie and I are fine, but it’s hard not to jump at shadows these days. We’ve had a few scares here. Most of them were away from Katie’s ward, but I’m heartbroken that my daughter knows that monsters are real now. I was so grateful to be able to read her your email. It made all the difference in the world for her to know that her Bucky was safe, and was out trying to help people with Steve.  
  
**

Bucky felt a bit like a fraud reading that. Jocelyn was telling Katie that they were out saving the world. Instead, they were cooped up waiting-  
  
He shook his head and resolved not to finish that thought. He continued to read, but the next section of Jocelyn’s email had his mouth falling open while his stomach pitched and fluttered. **  
  
**

**Normally I wouldn’t presume to bring this up but, with the way things are now, I just feel like it’s important to say. I know there must be a lot of reasons you two keep your relationship a secret. Frankly, it makes me incredibly sad that you feel like you must. I just wanted to tell you that we love you both, and should you decide to make your relationship status public, we’ll be over here clapping the loudest. I’ll have words with anyone who would try to disparage either of you for any reason.  
  
Katie is about to have a treatment soon, so I need to go. Thank you so much for all that you both do. Please stay safe out there.  
  
All our love, Joce  & Katie  
  
**

“Jesus… Are we the only ones that didn’t know…?”  
  
“I believe so, Bucky.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes bugged as he looked up at the ceiling. For some reason, he felt blood rushing to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but it was really unsettling.  
  
“That wasn’t… I wasn’t-”  
  
“I’m sorry. Was the question rhetorical?” Jarvis was quick to cut in with an apology.  
  
“No… I mean… I don’t know.” He tried to form thoughts to put into a real answer, but all he had were questions. “Were we that obvious?”  
  
“Within the parameters of my understanding of mutual attraction and affection, I would have to answer your question with a solid yes, Bucky.”  
  
His mouth was doing the thing where he really needed words to come out, but it just wasn’t happening. He’d have a sore jaw soon if he kept this up.  
  
“How…? How could we not know if everyone else did? I’m a goddamned spy trained to know people’s every tell. How could I not see it before?” The frustration was building in his chest again, and he rubbed at his forehead as he tried to make sense of everything.  
  
“I can give you several citations for works discussing how the human brain allows obvious cues to be pushed away from conscious recognition, but I’m not sure that’s the answer you are currently seeking.” It was almost funny how carefully Jarvis seemed in how he worded his answer. It was hard to believe that Jarvis was a creation of Tony Stark when it actually utilized such tact and decorum.  
  
“Maybe later, Jarvis. I can barely wrap my head around small talk right now.”  
  
“Then perhaps I can suggest an answer composited from the articles I’ve acquired so far: It is possible that you did not see because you were not yet ready to.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes dropped from the ceiling to stare blankly at the snow outside. Jarvis sounded more zen than Bruce. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being the dull crayon in the box either.  
  
“Wow. Uh… Thanks? I uh… I’m just… I’m gonna go back to bed for…” He couldn’t even get a full sentence out as his face filled with more heat as he jerked from his chair and nearly tripped over the leg of the coffee table. **  
  
_________________________________________**

 

Bucky lay watching Steve for some time, his eyes flicking occasionally to the snow outside. It seemed like he ran through several emotions, still trying to process how he felt about everyone seeming to know. Sam had seemed surprised at first, but maybe that was just the shock of Bucky blurting out what should have been private in the car ride to the airport. Like a lot of things, Sam now took the new turn as no big deal, so maybe he had suspected.  
  
Bruce hadn’t reacted at all, but he had no way of knowing what kind of conversation Sam had with him and Tony before they arrived. For his part, Tony acted delighted at having more ammunition, but it was hard to tell if Tony really believed half the jabs he threw at Steve about being a goody-goody. It was irritating, but hardly anything different where Tony was concerned.  
  
Scott knew. That was easy to discern now that he was clued in by Jarvis. He was always in awe of Steve and forever kissing his ass from day one. And then he’d suddenly become a little wary of Bucky. Then he’d started checking in with Bucky after every kiss-ass action or comment to Steve, like he was afraid of offending Bucky and was seeking permission. Bucky wasn’t sure what he saw that tipped him off, but he definitely knew.  
  
Fury. That wasn’t even worth discussing. He hadn’t even hid that he knew, but Bucky always took it as sarcasm… which it was. It just hadn’t been joking sarcasm. He was blatantly calling them out every time he accused them of needing marriage counselling, which was humiliating as hell for Bucky.  
  
Thor always gave Bucky knowing smiles. Bucky was used to them by now, but only because he thought the amiable smugness came from Thor knowing that Bucky had moved Mjölnir. He’d left the damn thing on the couch though, and Bucky was having a stress headache at the time. He hadn’t known it was such a point of contention between the other Avengers until they’d all gotten into a pissing match over it one night. Thor had been a bit pointed when he’d looked directly at Bucky as he told the others they couldn’t lift it because they weren’t worthy. Bucky had wanted to shrink into Tony’s couch that night, and had politely declined when they told him to have a go with his metal arm. He’d said there was no point, and he’d meant it since he’d picked the enchanted hammer up with his right hand. He still wasn’t convinced his metal arm could budge the thing, and he wasn’t about to try.  
  
And fuck Steve’s claims to the contrary; Bucky knew damn well that he saw Mjölnir twitch when Steve pretended to try to lift it.  
  
But yeah, Thor must’ve known too.  
  
Coulson always looked at people funny when they got too chummy with Steve, so who could really say on that note?  
  
Clint never acted like anything was amiss, and his facial expressions varied only as much as the friendly neighborhood potheads. His lack of reaction to most things had been a godsend when Bucky was still wading through the mess that was his brain, but it wasn’t giving Bucky any clues about whether he knew.  
  
Natasha… Now this was where he started feeling angry. He didn’t even have to wonder about whether she knew. Even if they only slipped a fraction, then of course she knew. So why the fuck did she keep trying to set Steve up on dates with other people? If she knew, why didn’t she just knock their heads together like Ella had? Why did a stranger have to tell them instead of people who were now Steve’s dysfunctional family?  
  
Maybe that was the answer right there; they were dysfunctional as fuck. In that moment, it was oddly comforting, even though he planned to have words with Natasha when she got back from wherever the hell she and Clint were.  
  
Actually… if Natasha knew, Clint knew. Of course he did.

Fuck.  
  
Steve still had about twenty minutes to sleep, but Bucky couldn’t stand it anymore.   
  
“Stevie, wake up… You’re not gonna believe this-”   
  
Bucky’s words died off immediately as he touched Steve’s arm. He was too cool to the touch. His fingers tightened upon Steve as Jarvis urgently cut into the silence of the room.   
  
“Bucky, Captain Rogers’ temperature has just dropped dramatically. I have already contacted Dr. Banner-”   
  
“Steve…? Steve, wake up. Steve! C’mon doll, don’t scare me like this…!”   
  
As Bucky shook Steve’s shoulders in an attempt to rouse him, a long hiss escaped Steve. It sounded like the body in the Bank Tower, and Bucky immediately became frantic. He scooped Steve into his arms and ran for the hallway door.   
  
“Jarvis, unlock the suite!”   
  
“Bucky… the team is coming-”   
  
“Tell them to stay there. We’re coming to them. Faster.”   
  
As soon as the lock clicked and the door opened, Bucky was running down the hallway. Jarvis had the elevator open and waiting for them. He leaned against the side of the elevator as it took them to the lab, hugging Steve’s body tightly to his own.   
  
“Steve… please…” he murmured desperately, pressing his nose into Steve’s hair. “Please wake up and tell me to put your dumb ass down…”  
  
The elevator had never seemed to move so slow. Bucky wanted to scream. Maybe he did; his ears were ringing so loudly that it was all he could hear. When the doors finally, mercifully opened, the team was waiting with a gurney. Bucky placed Steve onto it as gently as he could, but tensed up when Bruce and Edward tried to move him aside.   
  
“Bucky, you have to let them do their jobs here,” Sam immediately warned, warily putting pressure against Bucky’s chest to keep him out of the way.   
  
“He’s dropping fast,” Bruce muttered. “Jarvis, bring up stats for us,” he called as they ran the gurney to the back med bay. Sam couldn’t keep Bucky from following, but he just managed to keep him from having an immediate major meltdown.   
  
“Guys, fix this,” he called desperately, not understanding the flash of information popping up over Steve’s head. “You have to fix this! Wake him up!”   
  
“James,” Ella looked away from Steve’s stats only for a moment, “I promise, we’re on this. Let us work, okay?”   
  
Bucky’s chest felt tight as he tried to pull air into his lungs. He couldn’t swallow past his dry tongue; it felt like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth.   
  
“Sam…” He gripped Sam’s arm, feeling like he might go down. He only vaguely registered the chair that Sam pulled close with his foot; he barely registered dropping into it and doubling over.   
  
“Breathe, man,” Sam instructed. His voice was calm, but even Bucky could hear the tension beneath his words. The static started then, and Bucky really started to panic.   
  
“No no no no,” he repeated, his voice becoming more gravelly as he felt Steve slipping from him. “You’re losing him!” he growled, but he was desperate to make them understand that he was actually feeling and not just guessing.   
  
And then he heard the word cryo.  
  
Part of the table next to him exploded as he brought his fist down and screamed at them. Startled eyes all darted Bucky's way, but Tony just glared at Sam.   
  
“Do it, Wilson!”   
  
And then a sharp pinch at the base of his neck. Bucky didn't even have time to react, to fling his fist out in anger. A ll the sounds in the room began to fade. He didn’t lose consciousness, but he hit the floor as deadweight. He clawed weakly at the tile beneath him as muted voices reached his ears. Sam sat him upright against the wall with his shoulder propped into the corner. He couldn’t speak with his brain this fogged, but he managed a hateful gaze for Sam.   
  
“Man… I’m sorry. We need you calm. You get into a feedback loop with Steve, and it might make him worse. I know you don’t want that. I know you don’t want to be put out again, so this is a compromise. We’re just gonna sit here on the floor and let them work.”   


Bucky realized that whatever Sam shot him up with managed to push back the hive mind static. For that he was grateful, but he was now only weakly tuned in to Steve’s general sense of being. He panted as he strained to move enough to see the chaos around Steve. Again, Sam was quick to keep him from keeling over.  
  
“Easy, okay? Just stop fighting it, and you’ll be able to hear. We can’t have you freaking out and tearing up the med bay. You know that.”   
  
Bucky managed a huff of air as he allowed himself to fully slump against the wall. A tear slipped down his cheek as one of the revamped cryo tubes was wheeled in on a mechanized dolly. He looked pleadingly at Sam, slowly shaking his head.   
  
“It’s moving too fast, Bucky. We gotta do this to give them more time. It won’t progress in cryo.” 

The commotion around Steve was professional, but panicked. Tony had barely spoken above some exchanged notes with Bruce. Mostly he was watching Steve's levels and stats for the team. Bucky noticed that Ella had taken a step back, her brows furrowing as she seemed to be struggling with something. She glanced over at Bucky, then back to Steve.  
  
“Guys… wait,” she finally muttered, pressing her fingertips to her eyes. “Bruce, check me really fast here… When are they transitioning…?”   
  
Bruce blinked at her. Tony and Marcase just gaped.   
  
“Ella, we don’t have time for gambles and guesses-”   
  
“C’mon,” she snapped, “they’re transitioning after death, right? What happens when they die?”   
  
“The body cools,” Bruce breathed, his eyes growing wide. “His temperature drop…”   
  
“Maybe this thing needs that temperature drop to gain the foothold it needs,” Ella reasoned, but Marcase was shaking his head.   
  
“He already died once, this is something else. He’s not like the others,” he huffed, pointing at Steve. Bucky couldn't help the growl that rolled up from his chest.   
  
“Maybe he is though,” Ella yelled. “The serum hasn’t let him make a full transition, but his viral load is much higher now! It might be going for round two here.”  
  
“So what do we do? Hot packs and a sauna?” Tony asked incredulously.   
  
Ella’s eyes lit up just as Bruce’s did.   
  
“Incubator,” they both answered.   
  
“Bay five then,” Tony shrugged, and they grabbed the gurney and began to run.   
  
“Hang on, okay?” Sam jumped up and ran after them. Bucky, stuck in place on the floor, began to struggle, needing to follow. He began to pant again with the exertion, unable to do more than fall over.   
  
“Sssss…” It was all he could get out as he started dragging himself along on the floor. He was barely getting anywhere as Sam suddenly reappeared with Tony in tow.   
  
“It’s like that scene outta Terminator,” Tony muttered, but even in his compromised state, Bucky could tell he wasn’t even joking. The two men hoisted Bucky up, both grunting loudly.   
  
“Fuck this arm is heavy,” Sam hissed. Tony just huffed.   
  
“I keep telling him to let me make him a new one… Actually, it’s already made… He just needs to decide he can swallow his pride long enough to let me do the change…”   
  
Bucky let out a long, low growl, not wanting to hear about his arm when Steve was the priority. Tony was more than happy to shut up for once.   
  
“Fine, fine,” he scowled as they set Bucky down into a chair. Tony went back to checking various settings and tubing on the slightly-inclined pod. Steve was already inside. A thin film of condensation was already forming on the inside of the glass. Jarvis continued to update Steve’s statistics along with some verbal input to direct questions.   
  
Marcase was finishing an IV port in Steve’s hand, and his eyes remained on the readout as he hooked up a bag with a viscous, yellow fluid inside. As Bucky’s eyes fixed upon it, Sam spoke aloud.   
  
“That’s the concentrated booster we talked about. Hopefully Ella’s theory will be right and we’ll be able to pull him back… but you gotta prepare yourself, man. He’s probably gonna get real sick before anything else happens. You gotta keep your cool as best you can. You gotta do it for Steve, Bucky.”

Bucky wanted to close his eyes and shut everything out, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything changing and him not being there. He managed a small nod for Sam, and he tried to reach for Steve. Sam was quick to nod.  
  
“I know, okay? Let them finish, and we’ll move you over there by him.”   
  
As long as he could see Steve, there was no point fighting a battle he knew he couldn’t win right now. His eyelids were heavier than they should be, and his instincts told him Steve was the cause of that. Steve was slipping away from them, and involuntarily pulling Bucky along with him, but Bucky’s body wouldn’t allow him to follow fully. That was the worst part; Bucky wanted to follow. Not being able to was the worst feeling he could imagine right now, even given everything he’d been through. This couldn’t happen.   
  
“Sllll... Slip…”   
  
Everyone looked over and Sam narrowed his eyes. “Slipping? Outta your chair…?”   
  
“Sttteeeve.”   
  
Ella’s eyes also narrowed, and she turned to look at Steve’s stats. She pointed as she stepped out of the way so Bucky could see.   
  
“His temperature is coming up, but he’s not in his normal range. Once he’s just above normal, that’s when we need to know what you’re feeling from him, okay?” She looked to Bruce then.   
  
“Think we can warm him up any faster?” she asked cautiously.   
  
“A little,” Bruce hedged, also eyeing the readout. “Not by much or we could throw him into shock.”   
  
“Can he go into shock with the serum?” Marcase asked, and Bruce nodded immediately.   
  
“Sure. Takes a lot to do it, but yeah. He definitely can, and I feel like we’re running blind enough as it is. Let’s play it safe where we can.”   
  
“Okay…” Ella sighed. “Wait and see time.” As the others trickled out of the room to crunch the new data, Ella bent down in front of Bucky.  
  
“Can we bring you anything? Have you eaten yet?”   
  
Bucky just stared at her, then pointedly looked away, fixing his eyes upon Steve. Ella sighed and stood. She crossed her arms and her tone became a hint firmer.   
  
“I know you don’t want to do anything now. I understand you don’t feel like eating, but until we can figure this out, we’re going to have to keep drawing blood for testing, James. You have to keep your health up and take care of yourself, otherwise we won’t have accurate data from your draws.”   
  
He flicked a hateful glare her direction before returning his eyes to Steve.   
  
“Yeah, I know you hate me,” she muttered. “That’s fine, but it doesn’t make what I just said any less true. I’ll have something sent up for you and Sam.”   
  
Another growl rolled from his chest, but Ella just grunted as she walked out. They were all on edge now; he knew that. He didn’t feel like playing nice though. He didn’t feel like putting on a brave face. He didn’t want to be on the other side of an acrylic lid from Steve where he couldn’t even hold his hand, or feel his forehead.

He realized Sam was staring at him, and slowly rolled his eyes toward his new friend. Sam had his arms crossed over his chest with an expectant look.  
  
“You done? Can I move your seat over here, or you wanna growl at me too?”  
  
When Bucky looked away in answer, Sam shook his head silently. He grabbed the back of Bucky’s chair and dragged him closer to Steve’s incubator tube. He moved the chair so that Bucky could let his head rest against the wall if he wanted. Bucky gave him a subtle nod of thanks, then let his forehead press against the side of the incubator.   
  
“You good for a little bit?” Sam asked. “I wanna go see if I can help with something. Anything.” Bucky closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “Okay, Jarvis is monitoring. You need something, start tapping the incubator lid if you still can’t talk. That should wear off in a couple of hours though.”  
  
Pursing his lips, Bucky gave yet another small nod. Sam clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“Stay strong, man. There’s gotta be something small somewhere that we’re missing, but we’ll find it. We still got options.”  
  
He didn’t wait for further acknowledgement. He quietly left the room, leaving Bucky to the horrors of his own mind. He tried to speak again, but it just felt like more effort than he had in him just then. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to envision a rope between him and Steve, then he tried to start pulling on that rope. The sudden pull back was strong, and he gasped as the rope burned his flesh palm. More determined, he wrapped the rope around his left hand and pulled harder, focusing everything he had upon just dragging Steve back to safety.  
  
________________________  
  
_Bucky urgently knocked at the door, then stood there wringing his hands until an elderly woman answered. She gave him a cross look initially; it was just past eleven and she was rarely up this late._  
  
_“James! What the devil you poundin’ on m’door for at this hour? You know I ain’ up past nine!”_  
  
_He knew that, but this was an emergency that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t know where else to turn._  
  
_“Miss Lena! He’s…Steve... He’s real sick. I don’t know what to do. It’s never been this bad before… just sniffles an’ coughin’ ‘til now.”_  
  
_Miss Lena’s hardened look softened immediately. She held up her hand for patience, and ducked back inside her apartment. A few moments later, she closed her door behind her, now clad in a modest robe. Bucky led her across the hallway and let her into their apartment. For once, her eyes didn’t scan the interior with a critical eye with regard to their housekeeping._  
  
_“Let me have a look at ‘im,” she whispered, shuffling into their bedroom. Right away, she tutted at the flush of Steve’s cheeks as she put the back of her hand to his forehead._  
  
_“Fever’s bad, James.”_  
  
_“What’s that mean, Miss Lena?” Bucky’s voice was so small, sounding much younger than his actual years. This was new and terrifying. Steve got sick. That was a given any time the weather changed dramatically. His poor health meant his frail body had trouble adjusting, but he could always be roused from his sleep to sip at soup. He could still smile faintly as Bucky read the papers, or a well-worn book to him._  
  
_“What do I do?”_  
  
_“Not a lot y’can do, son,” she answered, “but I’ll go check in my place for a few things to ease it along…”_  
  
_“Ease it along…?” Bucky’s eyes were wide as he halted in the door way._  
  
_Miss Lena turned back to look at him with a saddened expression. “Ease his pain. James… I don’t think he’ll last the night. That fever’s too high. Strong boy like you? You’d pull through it with some care. Him though? He ain’t strong enough, son. Go on back. Tell ‘im what y’need to tell ‘im. Don’t talk too much though, boy; he won’t pass peaceful if y’do.”_  
  
_“What?!” Bucky stumbled backward, shaking his head frantically. “No! That’s exactly what I’m gonna do! I’m gonna talk his ear off ‘til he wakes back up an’ tells me to shut up!”_  
  
_“Son, it ain’t right. Let ‘im go gently-”_  
  
_“T’hell with gently!” Bucky yelled at her, not caring about respecting her elder status when she was talking crazy. “He ain’t dyin’! He’s stubborn! He’ll come back around justa tell me to stop mother henning ‘im!”_  
  
_“He’ll die with his spirit sore with ya,” she insisted. “He won’t move on. He’ll be stuck here and get mean on all of us!”_  
  
_“Steve don’t have a mean bone in his body an’ you know it,” Bucky growled back, his eyes flaring in anger. “An’ I don’t care. I wan’t ‘im good an’ sore at me so he wakes up justa tell me how pissed he is! He ain’ dyin’ like this!”_  
  
_Miss Lena scowled at him for a long, tense moment. Finally her expression relaxed, and she dug into the pocket of her robe. She pressed six pills into his palm with a stern look._  
  
_“Open a window in here. Not the bedroom. No drafts on ‘im. You bundle up and get it cold in here. Put a damp washrag on his forehead, and get his feet outta the covers. Y’gotta get that fever down. Give ‘im two of these aspirin every four hours with some warm broth. Not hot. Need his temperature down. You got all that, James?”_  
  
_“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky answered softly, closing his fist around the aspirin. “M’sorry I yelled. Steve’s all I got though. Can’t jus’ let ‘im go without a fight, Miss Lena.”_  
  
_She stared at him, seeming to want to say something difficult to hear, but then tutted again and patted his cheek._  
  
_“You’re a good boy, James. Real good. Tomorrow mornin’ first thing, you go on down to Mr. Carvin’s an’ get some medicine for Steve. Tell ‘im to put it on my account, then you can pay me back when the docks pay ya.”_  
  
_“Miss Lena-”_  
  
_“Don’t be proud, James," she scolded sharply. "There’s a time to be proud, an’ a time to swallow it. First thing tomorrow, ya hear me?”_  
  
_“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky repeated. “Thank you, Miss Lena. You need anythin’ fixed in your place, you jus’ let me know.”_  
  
_“I’ll check in on ya tomorrow after church,” she nodded as an answer. “We’ll talk then.”_  
  
_“Thank you,” he said again, seeing her back to her door. “G’night, ma’am.”_  
  
_“G’night, James.”_  
  
_Bucky set about doing exactly as Miss Lena instructed, wincing as Steve shuddered violently when he uncovered his feet and placed the damp rag to his forehead. It was at least a reaction. Steve had been deathly still as he silently burned up. Now he was shivering with his chin trembling. Finally feeling a bit of the chill himself, Bucky pulled on his warmest sweater and put his coat next to the bed for when he finally settled down to hold vigil. In the meantime, he went to check on the broth. He dipped his finger in, testing the temperature. It was just starting to steam, so Bucky pulled it from the stove and poured a little into a coffee cup. He headed back to Steve’s bed and set it on the rickety nightstand._  
  
_“Stevie…? C’mon pal, open up for me.” When Steve didn’t respond, Bucky started talking more. “Yeah, I know, Stevie. For once, we gotta get ya cold. Gotta get that fever down, so ya gotta open your mouth so I can give ya these aspirin, okay?”_  
  
_Steve’s bottom lip went slack, and Bucky took that to be as good as Steve would be able to manage. He gripped Steve’s jaw and wiggled it around until he got Steve’s mouth open further, enough to get the aspirin onto the back of his tongue. He grabbed the mug of broth and dribbled a little into Steve’s mouth. The younger boy gave a weak cough, but Bucky managed to close his mouth in time to keep any from spilling. Once Steve settled, Bucky repeated the process, mostly with success. Some broth dribbled down onto Steve’s nightshirt, but the aspirin were finally swallowed. Bucky got as much of the broth down Steve as he dared. He needed something to keep the aspirin from upsetting Steve’s stomach, but he worried that too much would do more harm than good and end up having the same effect. The last thing he needed was for Steve to throw up the precious aspirin._  
  
_“So let’s take a look at the paper,” Bucky murmured to his best friend as he tried to ignore the way Steve continued to shiver violently. “John Jr. left his Barnard Bulletin behind for me to bring home. It’s from Tuesday, but beggars don’ get to be choosers, right?”_  
  
_He snapped open the paper, his eyes immediately zeroing in on an article he knew Steve would take interest in._  
  
_“Dean’s annual report discusses college graduates and ‘new leisure’ it says. Practical value of recent trend toward arts in colleges stressed by dean… ‘It is unlikely that the new leisure will ever prove superfluous or boring to college graduates, according to the annual report of Dean Virginia C. Gildersleeve. But one important change this new leisure may bring: it seems likely that the provision of recreation to fill the spare time of the community in general will form one of the most important fields of professional work to provide jobs for our graduates in the years to come.’ Dean Gildersleeve in her annual college report for the year ending June 30, 1934, points out the practical value of the recent trend of women’s college toward the arts. She praises the work of the Music and Fine Arts Departments in furthering this movement and congratulates the Physical Ed. Department…?”_  
  
_Bucky blinked at the paper, then at Steve. “What the hell does the Physical Ed Department haveta do with the damn arts? I thought we were onta somethin’ here, Stevie…” He continued to read silently for a moment._  
  
_“Oh, they’re handlin’ the dance classes. Weird, but okay… ‘full of possiblities for physical development, aesthetic pleasure, and creative achievement.’ Says she stresses the value of their method of teaching…  ‘Only of recent years have we begun to appreciate the great importance, professionally and socially as well as aesthetically, of an effective, pleasing, and cultivated voice.’” Bucky snorted aloud and glanced up at Steve’s prone form._  
  
_“They should get a load of the voice that comes outta you, punk. Y’sound like you’re twice your size…”_  
  
_He craned his neck to squint incredulously at the paper. “Jesus, Stevie. They’re writin’ about how some organ grinder at their library doesn’t wanna get a monkey to perform while he plays… an’ he won’t learn any new tunes unless they give ‘im… $175!! Holy cow, Stevie, maybe you should learn to play an organ grinder! Hell, maybe we both should!”_  
  
_Bucky shook his head and continued. “Says he won’t consider a monkey ‘cause he likes the ladies dancing around him better. Well no shit, right? Who wouldn’t?”_  
  
_Bucky turned the page, still shaking his head. “Got a war overseas an’ they’re writin’ about monkeys… Surprised y’haven’t sat up to howl your indignance over that already…”_  
  
_He pursed his lips with worry as he stared at Steve. Finally he let out a slow, sad sigh and put his nose back to the page to see in the low light. He continued to read to Steve, adding his own commentary as he went. He paused only to put on his coat and warm up more broth for Steve. When the four hour mark passed, he gave Steve two more aspirin with more of the broth._

 _When morning showed its weary face, Bucky felt as lackluster as the daylight. He was already in his coat, but he pulled on his hat and scarf in preparation of going outside. He stared at Steve, who was calmer now, but still hadn’t regained consciousness. He risked reaching out to smooth back Steve’s hair._  
  
_“Stay with me, punk,” he whispered. “I won’t be gone long, I promise.”_  
  
_An hour later, he was bustling back inside. He’d left their key with Miss Lena, who was sitting near the bed. Bucky smelled the broth she was heating up, and he was as grateful for himself as for Steve. The chill felt like it would never leave his bones after last night._  
  
_“Thank you so much for sitting with him, Miss Lena,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure why he kept his voice lowered. It just seemed appropriate somehow with the elderly woman present._  
  
_“You got what I told ya to get?” She didn’t look at him; her eyes were fixed upon the knitting she held in her hands. The dark navy yarn transformed into something that looked soft and comforting as it materialized from her needles._  
  
_“Yeah, exactly what you said,” Bucky answered, pulling the items from the paper bag once he’d pulled off his gloves. “Mr. Carvin wasn’t there, but his wife was. She sent me back with some food that she said’d be good for Steve once he wakes up. I gotta think of a way to pay her back-”_  
  
_“It’s okay to just accept help sometimes, James,” Miss Lena responded quietly. “Steve helped their daughter, y’know.”_  
  
_Bucky stopped where he was and stared. “No… I didn’t know… but doesn’t surprise me none.”_  
  
_“He taught her how to paint a bit. The Carvins do okay with their store, but lessons from someone else’d been too expensive.”_  
  
_“Oh, Mattie? I didn’t realize she was their daughter. Never knew ‘er last name, just that Steve was teachin’ someone. I didn’t put the two t’gether.”_  
  
_“Mm-hmm,” Miss Lena hummed. “Your Steve would only take half what they offered to pay ‘im…”_  
  
_“That don’t surprise me either,” Bucky smiled as he pulled the broth from the stove. “That’s jus’ how Steve is, Miss Lena. Y’know that.”_  
  
_“I do,” Miss Lena mused, turning a firm eye Bucky’s way. “So just accept their help. For all the nasty folk that wanna throw stones at ‘im, there’s plenty who know what a good boy he is. Remember that, James.”_  
  
_“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky nodded. “I know who Steve is, an’ I know we got some friends… Jus’ hard when I’m havin’ to patch ‘im up because he sticks his nose where it don’ belong.”_  
  
_“Needs a bigger body to go with ‘is heart,” Miss Lena smiled._  
  
_“Yes, ma’am, he does,” Bucky muttered._    
  
_______________________________________

  
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. He felt a little groggy still, but he could move now. More importantly, his chest ached from the memory he’d had in his sleep. It was there, so clear for him, especially how he’d felt worrying over Steve. There was no disconnect this time, and tears pooled in Bucky’s eyes as he allowed the feelings to settle into his soul. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the incubator and wishing he could just hold Steve’s hand. It would be so much easier to search him out within their link, easier to pull him back.   
  
From the corner of Bucky’s view, he saw Sam enter the room. He stayed seated as their friend drew near the incubator, but then shot up and out of his chair when Sam was within striking distance. He hooked Sam with his right fist, catching him square in the jaw and sending him reeling backward. Bucky righted his chair, sat back down, and leveled a cool glare Sam’s way as the other man righted himself. He spit blood into his palm and shot Bucky a rueful, but accepting look.   
  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll give you that one. It had to be done though, and you know it.”   
  
Bucky said nothing, keeping his eyes steady and his expression as neutral as possible. He knew he wasn’t really succeeding though.   
  
“Got it out of your system now? Can I actually sit down?”   
  
Bucky silently kicked a chair closer to Sam, who took it once he’d washed his hands and rinsed his mouth. He flopped down into the chair and sighed, working his jaw a bit to ease the ache. Bucky turned his attention back to Steve, but murmured softly.   
  
“You do that to me again, I’ll use the left hand.”   
  
“You do you, man,” Sam muttered back. “I’ll do what I gotta do to keep my friends safe. That includes you, asshole.”   
  
“Sam, there are cold packs in the far cabinet to your right,” Jarvis spoke up. Sam just shook his head.   
  
“I’m good, thanks,” he muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped the incubator with his foot. “Anything?”   
  
“I remember,” Bucky said quietly. “I remember how it used to feel. How this used to feel… every time he’d get sick. Every time someone would say I should prepare myself. Never let myself go down that road. Never let anyone tell me that he wouldn’t pull through. I remember what it felt like to fight for him… to just sit there and will him back any way I could.”   
  
“Isn’t it how you feel now?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed, but there was no judgement behind them. Only a desire to understand.   
  
“No… Kinda but… when I would remember that time of our lives before, it was like watchin’ a movie of someone else’s life. The motions were there, but not the real feeling. I knew how I should feel about it, but it was like listenin’ to a radio station where the signal was choppy an’ cutting out.”   
  
“Disconnected,” Sam murmured, and Bucky nodded.   
  
“S’not like that anymore,” he whispered, pressing his palm to the acrylic. Steve needed him now, and Bucky couldn’t reach him. He had to fix that. He looked over at Sam, needing his words to carry the amount of weight.   
  
“I gotta hold his hand, Sam. I gotta touch him. I can’t explain it to you. It’s just gotta happen. Ya just gotta convince them.”   
  
“The temperature though... It’s important that it stays stabilized in there,” Sam pointed out with a look of deep concern.    
  
“Figure it out, Sam. Please. You gotta.”   
  
Sam pursed his lips, but then finally nodded and stood. He'd obviously seen enough weird shit to warrant putting faith in Bucky's desperation.  
  
“Lemme go see what I can do.”   
  
“Thanks, Sam.” Bucky slumped against the incubator with relief. Sam didn’t reply as he left the room, but Bucky knew he could have faith in him. Sam would find a way somehow.   
  
“Hang on, Stevie,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”   
  
  
  
Sometime later, Bucky awakened to Ella and Marcase coming into the room. Marcase held what looked like a rubber sleeve with no hand at the end. Instead it had a round, rubber sort of gasket. He pulled an arm-sized cap out of the side of the incubator, and screwed the sleeve into place.   
  
“You can put your arm through there,” Ella instructed, pointing to the sleeve. “It’ll feel a little snug, but that’ll keep too much of the warm air from escaping.”   
  
Bucky was already pushing his sleeve up so he could put his arm through the opening.   
  
“Thank you,” he muttered. He looked up as Marcase handed him the cap.

“If you have to step away, just put this back over the opening. Try to keep it to a minimum, obviously.”  
  
“Okay,” Bucky answered. “Thanks,” he repeated softly.   
  
“I just hope you’re right about this,” Marcase responded. “A bad feedback loop could prove disastrous for both of you.”   
  
“Disaster’s what we do, Doc,” Bucky stated glibly. “Maybe it’s what we need right now. Lil more shit to throw our backs against.”   
  
“You’re both nuts,” Edward smirked, getting the military mindset Bucky was throwing at him.   
  
“I’ve never argued the point,” Bucky smirked back, seeing that Marcase was seeming to finally be on the same page with him. He waited until they left the room, then fit the sleeve through the opened port. He clicked it into place and reached for Steve’s right hand. The moment they touched, Bucky felt the confusion and chaos in Steve’s mind, but he also felt like every part of his body and soul just… settled. It would never be something he’d be able to explain to the science team or Sam. It was just such a relief. He could fight for Steve now, really and truly fight to bring him back.

Bucky closed his eyes and began to systematically remember every good moment he and Steve ever shared.  
  
  
__________________________________________________

 

 _Two days later, Bucky was feeling frantic again. He’d had to go to work, afraid he’d lose his position if he didn’t. Now he was home, sweaty and feeling disgusting. All he wanted was a good scrub and to sleep, but he couldn’t stop pacing._  
  
_“Why ain’ he wakin’ up?”_  
  
_“His body’s been through a rough go, James,” Miss Lena sighed. She put her hand to Steve’s forehead. “His fever’s gone down a bit. It’ll probably break tonight, an’ when it does, he might rouse a bit. Make sure he stays resting, son.”_  
  
_“I will,” Bucky muttered. Their neighbor cast an assessing eye over Bucky._  
  
_“Go clean yourself up in my place. I’ll sit with him while ya do.”_  
  
_“Thank you, Miss Lena.”_  
  
_Later that night, Bucky had fallen asleep next to Steve’s bedside. He hadn’t been able to keep himself from wrapping his fingers around Steve’s. He was dreaming of places with water so warm that Steve would be able to swim without fear of becoming sick._  
  
_A weak squeeze to his fingers pulled him back to wakefulness immediately. He jerked his head upright and stared down at Steve, whose watery eyes were steady upon him._  
  
_“Hey!” he grinned, quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Stevie… you scared the shit outta me! You were so sick!”_  
  
_“Cold,” Steve whispered, and sure enough, he was shivering once Bucky got a good look at him._  
  
_“Shit… hang on okay? I hadta open the windows to try to get your fever down…” Bucky stumbled about the apartment on weary legs as he quickly shut the front windows. He pulled Steve’s worn blanket over him, tucking him back into a warm cocoon once he’d helped him sit up just a bit._  
  
_“Lemme get some broth warmin’ up for ya,” Bucky muttered. He lit the flame and placed the pot over it, putting the lid on to help speed up the process. He came back to the bedside and sat down again, pulling Steve’s hand into his own to warm it._  
  
_“M’okay, Bucky,” he murmured, his voice hoarse._  
  
_“Sure ya are now,” Bucky allowed, indulging Steve’s pride, “but ya weren’t, Steve. Not at all. Miss Lena was tellin’ me to let ya go in peace.”_  
  
_“Maybe ya shoulda,” Steve frowned, but Bucky shook his head._  
  
_“No. Couldn’t,” he frowned right back. “You’re my family, Steve. Need ya here. If that makes me selfish, then I’m selfish. Don’t care.”_  
  
_“You’re not selfish,” Steve disagreed, staring down at where Bucky held his hand. “Not even a little.”_  
  
_“Good, then don’ argue with me. Jus’ get better, okay?” Bucky’s eyes were wide and pleading with Steve as he spoke, unable to be cross with Steve over his morbid pondering._  
  
_“Okay,” Steve said simply._

____________________

 

Bucky jerked awake and looked down at Steve. His hand was warm and gripping Bucky’s fingers. He hadn’t awakened, but it was okay. Bucky knew what to do now. He had to be Steve’s anchor again, the thing that tethered him to life.  
  
He began stroking his thumb over the top of Steve’s hand. He closed his eyes again, exhausted even with the short bouts of sleep he was getting. He could rest later, when Steve was stabilized and awake.   
  
The room faded away as Bucky allowed himself to drift. There was nothing except the warmth of Steve’s hand, and he might have been spooked by the sensation and virtual blindness if he wasn’t so focused upon Steve. He had zero room for error.   
  
There was a pinpoint of light. It started to spread just enough that he could see Steve standing in front of him. He was in his uniform, his shield in its place on his harness, and his back was to Bucky. He was standing though; that gave Bucky some hope.   
  
“Stevie…?”   
  
He didn’t turn around, but his head did twitch to the side just a fraction. Okay, he could hear Bucky which was good, but his focus was on something ahead of them. Bucky stepped forward, but found he couldn’t move in front of Steve.   
  
Steve wasn’t letting him.   
  
“Steve, we gotta go. You gotta follow me back, baby. This isn’t where you’re supposed to be.”   
  
Steve’s focus remained absolute, and he took a hesitant step forward. The moment he did, Bucky’s skin prickled with fear and apprehension. He drew even with Steve again, and peered into the claustrophobic blackness ahead of them. Seeing nothing, he looked behind them, knowing it was the direction they needed to go. His confirmation was the way the blackness swirled, ebbing and parting to allow a soft glow of almost imperceptible light to dance through it.   
  
Steve took another step and Bucky gasped as a sense of pure terror enveloped him. He whipped his head around and grabbed Steve’s arm. When he did, the sound reached him: The quiet shuffling and moaning he’d come to dread. He couldn’t see them, but Steve obviously could, and they were pulling him in.   
  
“Steve! Turn around! Look at me!”   
  
Steve didn’t acknowlege him at all, so Bucky dropped his voice into commanding officer mode and shoved Steve hard in the shoulder.   
  
“I said turn around soldier!” he barked, not allowing the desperation he felt to enter his voice. Steve’s eyelids fluttered and he gave his head a small shake.   
  
“About face!” Bucky snarled at him, shoving him again. “What’s wrong with you, son, y’got cotton in yer ears or somethin’? I gave you an order!”   
  
Steve’s eyes remained locked upon the darkness, but he slowly turned. Pouncing on what little momentum he sensed, Bucky gripped Steve’s face and turned it away.   
  
“Rogers! Eyes forward!”   
  
This time, Bucky’s natural voice bled through, but it seemed to jar Steve. He blinked several times, and Bucky gave him a sharp shake.   
  
“Steve, look at me. Look at me right now.”   
  
Milky eyes slowly focused, and the green began to recede. Steve’s hands rose to grip Bucky’s arms as he started to frown.   
  
“Buck…”   
  
“Yeah, it’s me, Stevie. I’m right here. I’m gonna get you outta here.”   
  
“Bucky, you need to go. You’re not safe here.” He tried to turn his eyes back toward the darkness, but Bucky turned his head further to prevent it.   
  
“Neither are you, pal,” Bucky breathed, keeping Steve’s face in his hands. “Listen you just gotta follow me out, okay? Look over there. See the light flickerin'? We just gotta walk that direction, Steve.”  
  
“I can’t-” Steve winced.   
  
“Yes, you can. You just follow me-”   
  
“They won’t let me, Bucky!” His voice was panicked, and he tried again to look over his shoulder. Bucky stopped him just in time. He  gave Steve another hard shake and pulled him close so their faces nearly touched.   
  
“When have you ever let anything or anyone tell you no? Huh? You are Steve fucking Rogers. Captain fuckin’ America. They don’t tell you shit. You tell them to go fuck themselves, because you’re not staying here,” Bucky growled, ready to sock Steve in the jaw and carry him out if necessary.   
  
For the first time in their lives, Steve turned pleading eyes upon Bucky, and his words made Bucky’s heart seize inside his chest.   
  
“Bucky… Help me... Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also BarqueBatch on Tumblr!


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